Ciudat Atragerea
by Jubalii
Summary: Theirs was an unconventional relationship, founded by whimsy and fueled by loyalty. When those aren't enough, something more is born from the ashes. (AxS, AAxI, and Walter is the fifth wheel)
1. Relație Tensionată

_**Author's Note:** For those of you who care about such things-ESCAPE is a real radio drama that aired in the 1950s. It can be found online in both html format, and as a recording that you can listen to for free._

_Also, thanks to those of you who wished me a "happy birthday" today! You guys really are the best Scarf-clad army an author could have! (sniffs and wipes away tears).  
_

* * *

_I reached for the cigarettes. There was only one left in the packet. I lit it. I threw it on the empty fire…and watched it burn._

Seras stared at the fire, when suddenly a voice pierced through the dim room.

"Under the direction of Norman Macdonnell, ESCAPE has brought you "The Birds" by Daphne du Maurier, specially adapted for radio by Robert Ryf, starring Ben Wright with Virginia Gregg. Featured in the cast where John Deh-" Walter clicked off the radio and Seras stretched before pulling herself off the floor.

This was a Thursday night tradition of theirs: relaxing in the sitting-room while listening to a channel that still played old radio shows-chiefly the half-hour thriller _ESCAPE_. Seras enjoyed it because it was the closest thing to television that she was able to get in the boring mansion; Walter enjoyed it because the outdated shows reminded him of his youthful days.

They listened together; Seras often sprawled on her stomach on the rug, Walter in "his" comfy chair with closed eyes and a smile on his face. They both escaped the rigors of their lives for 30 minutes, wrapped in up in the retelling of "The Most Dangerous Game" or "The Fall of the House of Usher" (Seras' personal favorite). They'd heard the stories at least a thousand times, but it seemed as though neither of them cared as they kept meeting up at exactly 6:59 pm each week.

In all honesty, Seras often looked forward to their ritual; it relaxed her before she went to train with Alucard or on a mission with her men. She was pretty sure Walter looked forward to it as well; the one time that she was forced to miss it, he'd given her a sad glance-although he'd brushed her apologies aside.

* * *

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she bid Walter bye for the moment and made her way down to Alucard's chambers. They hadn't had a mission in two days, and already Seras was feeling antsy as she walked through the cooler air of the lower levels. That wasn't a good thing….if she was bored, that meant Alucard was bored, and a bored Alucard wasn't something very beneficial to have on your hands.

The hairs on her neck rose slightly but she didn't falter, continuing her stroll. Contrary to her outward indifference, she was actually on high alert as she tried implementing her training. Alucard's mentorly advice rang in her mind as she walked, branching out her sixth sense as easily as she did her sense of sight or hearing. After a long moment she stopped and stared a spot next to her, looking at a blank cement wall.

"I see you," she called in a sing-song voice. Her master emerged from the spot, a satisfied expression on his face.

"Very good; much faster than last time," he said with a nod. "But it took you far too long to find me. I'd have killed you by now if I wanted to." Seras frowned slightly, making a mental note to work harder on observing her surroundings. "Where were you?" he added, falling into step beside her on their way to the basement. "Your mind was elsewhere this evening."

"I was with Walter," Seras replied with a shrug. Alucard gave her a look but said nothing. They reached his chambers and Seras waited, as always, until he invited her in with a wave of his hand. Even if he never asked permission to enter her room, she'd never felt right about just barging in his although she was pretty sure that he didn't mind. In fact, she had half a mind to believe she was the only one allowed in his room at all.

"You're right," he said in answer to her thoughts, although he didn't clarify which one he'd meant to answer. Maybe he meant both? His outerwear vanished with a wave of his hand, leaving him in his suit and boots. Seras looked around the sparsely furnished room curiously. She'd never been inside farther than his chair, but she saw the only other furnishings were his coffin and an old cupboard. Feeling bold, she walked over to the cupboard and looked at the items littering the top of it. A tiny hand mirror caught her eye and she picked it up, admiring her image in the glass.

"Do you often stay with Walter when you're not with me?" he asked, not bothering to look around the chair and see what she was up to. She put the mirror down and picked up a leather-bound book.

"Yeah, I do most of the time. Every once in a while I used to visit Sir Integra but since she's currently…unavailable I suppose that's out of the question." The poor woman still had a full three months of prison left, and Alucard refused to take her to visit.

She flipped the pages and frowned when she found it was in a foreign language. Going to the last page, she found that part of the book was empty, but the last written page had her name on it, familiar against the strange words. _Maybe it's Master's memoirs?_ she considered before returning the book to its former spot.

"And for how long?" he asked quietly. Seras stopped, looking at the back of the throne before moving down to open the cupboard door. It was filled with golden objects. Making a face (money didn't seem so important anymore when you supposedly lived forever) she closed the door and moved over to view the coffin.

"Um, about thirty minutes or so? Maybe longer-it depends on how many chores he has to do. Most of the time we have to make anything we do rather hasty. We still have fun though." She fought the urge to finger the beautiful lettering on the lid. A vampire's coffin was a sacred thing; you didn't just touch it without the owner's permission. Suddenly she felt his mind spear her own and she jumped with a yelp. She put a hand on her temple and spun to face the chair.

"Ow! I wasn't gonna touch it, I promise!" she half-moaned and stomped back around to the front of the chair, her exploration over for the moment. She wavered when she saw his hands clenching the armrests, his knuckles white against his already-pale skin. "What's the matter?" she asked hesitantly. "Master?"

"No. Do not do anything with Walter again. I forbid it." His voice was deathly quiet and forceful. Seras blinked once, twice before the meaning sat in. No more Thursday night radio? No more helping with the laundry or training together? _Unacceptable!_

"Master, no!" she gasped. "Walter's one of the_ only_ friends I've had in my entire life! Don't do this to me!" she said angrily. Alucard looked up sharply, his eyes boring into hers.

"What do you need friends for?" he sneered. "You've got me for eternity, since you won't drink my blood." Seras shook her head in exasperation, trying to think of a way to make him understand.

"Yes, that's right! I've got you for eternity; can't I enjoy Walter while he's still young enough to do things with?" she reasoned, half-hopeful. She saw immediately that _that_ was the wrong thing to say. He growled low in his throat, throwing himself from the chair to tower over her menacingly. She gasped and backed up, her instincts screaming at her: R_un away, stupid bloke!_

"_No! _He won't have you-you're mine," Alucard hissed and grabbed her wrist, trying to drag her to him despite her boots scrambling as she tried to get away. He tightened his hold and she heard her bone cracking and squealed in pain, jerking her arm.

"_Master_!" she cried in disbelief, trying to pry his fingers off before he crushed her. He let go and she went crashing to the floor, sprawled out on the hard stone with an aching tailbone. She whimpered and pulled her wounded arm to her chest, looking up at him, tears in her eyes. She began to realize that there was no reasoning on the matter; her heart clenched at the thought of losing her only friend and she resorted to pure begging. "Master, please don't do this. Don't keep me away from him, _please_." She saw the answer in his eyes and stood; her heart breaking as it felt the weight of his judgment.

She spasmed and her vision completely blurred as she let out a broken sob, unable to hold back any longer. Turning, she ran out of the room and slammed the heavy door, sprinting up a level to her own room and slamming her own door as well. She flung herself on the bed, not caring whether she turned her nice white sheets red with bloody tears. She just held her pillow and cried as loudly as she could, feeling more alone now than she ever did as a human being.

* * *

Hours later, she felt the sun beginning to rise but she remained where she was, rocking her pillow as she sat against the wall. She'd sobbed until she threw up from overexertion, but as soon as she was done she'd sat in the bathroom next to the toilet and began to cry again. Part of her was reminded of her human days where she'd had PMS and had sat alone in her flat, blubbering like an idiot because she forgot to buy paper towels at the store. But this felt different: after all these years, she'd finally found a true friend only to have her master's orders keeping them apart.

It wasn't as if she _had_ to follow his command-sure, she wanted to please him but she'd disobeyed before and didn't die from it or anything. It was more out of fear of what he'd do if she disobeyed. He could hurt her, but worse than that: he wouldn't hesitate to maim or _kill_ Walter. She'd never forgive herself if that had happened.

She finally sniffed for the last time and wiped her eyes on a blood-soaked bath towel that she'd been using as a makeshift hanky. She listened to the sound of silence, punctuated by the ticking of the clock on the dresser. When she'd first begun her breakdown, she'd heard Walter pounding on the door, but that was the last thing she'd needed so she ignored him for the moment. She'd heard him go away soon after, and part of her rationalized that her master may have made him leave her alone.

As for Alucard, he'd tried to worm his way into her mind, but she'd imagined her mental-self slamming a door in his smug face and suddenly he was gone. She realized that she'd just learned something, but half-heartedly conceded that although he didn't, he could have crushed her mental block into fine dust without breaking a sweat.

The man in question popped from the brickwork above her head and she looked wearily at him, emotionally drained. He sniffed at the bath towel in disdain before stepping fully from the wall to address her.

"Have you finished with your little womanly display?" he asked in irritation. "You seemed dead-set on busting my eardrums. Things echo in this basement, you know-and enhancing your sobs with your powers doesn't help much either." Seras closed her eyes, not wanting to look at him.

"I wasn't enhancing my sobs with my powers," she muttered. Now that she'd quieted down, she feltexhausted. _I thought crying was supposed to help you feel better, not worse. _

"Au contraire. They sounded through the entire grounds. You had all the soldiers running up to the doors because they thought it was some new alarm system," Alucard continued. "You certainly know how to make a nuisance of yourself." From his tone, one would have assumed he was pleased as punch that she had created such an uproar.

Seras felt the first edges of anger curling at her mind. She fingered the sopping towel thoughtfully, a plan working in her brain. She vaguely heard her master ask her something, but she ignored him, instead reaching down to find herself-more specifically, the seat of her powers.

"Answer me. Are you listening, Police Girl?" Alucard asked, and she looked up to glare at him balefully. He narrowed his eyes slightly and crossed his arms, preparing for another fight on her part. She mimicked his stance, crossing her arms and turning slightly on the bed to keep him from her direct line of sight. When he prodded her again to answer, she turned her head and stuck her nose in the air. If he wanted to treat her like a spoiled child, then by God she was going to _act_ like a spoiled child.

* * *

Alucard pressed his lips in a thin line. Seras kept her powers focused on him but her eyes closed, using her other senses rather than sight alone to keep her master in check. She heard a snarl and her chin was jerked around violently in a vice grip. She opened her eyes to glower at him, her mouth turned in an angry pout. He repeated his question a third time, and she replied by trying to yank her head out of his hand. When it didn't work, she looked down until he was forced to get close to her face. Gathering her courage, she quickly prayed to whatever god would listen before spitting dead in his left eye. He jerked back in surprise, blinking his eyes rapidly before scowling and back-handing her across the bed. She twisted in the air and landed on all fours without a sound, just like he'd taught her on the training field.

He wiped the remaining spit rolling down his cheek with one thumb as he clomped over toward her, his lip curling and showing the edge of one fang. She bristled like an animal, reminding herself that she was only doing this to make a point (although at this point, it didn't seem to be getting across too well).

She stood, refusing to give in to the fleeting urge to run away from the incoming danger. He raised his hand to hit her again and she caught it mid-slap, pushing against it in a power struggle before giving up when he clearly won, using the momentum from his arm to maneuver out of the way. His nostrils flared and she glanced up to see his eyes were mere slits, a surefire sign that he was _beyond_ pissed.

"You are _mine_ and yet you dare to rebel against me? Do you honestly need to be taught your place?" he gritted out around his teeth, clearly showing an enormous amount of restraint.

"Maybe I don't want to be yours anymore!" she shouted defiantly. "Maybe I want to be free, so I can be with my _friends_! What next; you're going to force me to stay in this room because a soldier smiled at me on a mission?" Rather than yelling back, Alucard seemed to freeze for a long moment.

"You would rather be free," he said plainly, more a simple fact than a question. He gave her a stony look before biting his wrist and offering it to her. "Be free then." Seras stared at the blood dripping down his arm. She felt a strange twist in her stomach: she couldn't give up now, but she didn't really mean that she wanted to be a No-Life-Queen just yet!

Weighing her options, Seras gulped and moved toward him, her ego not allowing her to admit defeat. She gave him a sorrowful look, their eyes meeting briefly before she leaned forward, sticking her tongue out to catch the first drop of blood that was going to fall from his forearm. Before she was able to get a single lick in, he jerked his arm away, giving her a strange look.

"You really would have," he said in amazement. Seras stared up at him in confusion. Didn't he want this-didn't he offer her the _exact same thing_ back when he first turned her? What changed between then and now? He offered no explanation, simply turning away silently and phasing down through the floor. Seras blinked in surprise before stomping her foot hard in annoyance, leaving a crack in the solid cement. Grumbling to herself, she went to bed. Crossing her hands on her lap, she watched the lid close on her with an infuriated expression, heavy with the thought that she never got the message across to her boneheaded sire.


	2. Spirite înrudite

Across the town, Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing lay in the same position on her flimsy prison mattress. She cursed and rubbed her shoulder. _You'd think that the royal prison would have better quality cells._ But then again, it _was _a prison. She grumbled quietly and noticed a peculiar set of cracks in the old ceiling. She turned her head on the pillow and glared at the cracks, trying to see an image in the new distraction in her boring cell. If she squinted, she decided that she could see Paladin Anderson doing the Limbo with a Munchkin.

As if she'd summoned him with her thoughts, the guard gave three short raps on the door. Turning face down in the pillow, she groaned softly.

"Come in," she called, her voice muffled by the pillow. She heard the door open and the familiar sound of boots clomping along the floor, just as they did every Friday at 11:00 am. She didn't even bother acknowledging her visitor, instead pretending that she could smother herself in the pillow.

"Ach. Lady Hellsing, is this any way to treat a guest in your room?" the heavily-accented voice asked from somewhere near her head. She wearily pulled herself from the pillow to come nose-to-nose with the _admirable_ Alexander Anderson, who had kneeled next to the bed. She gave him a deadpan look, furrowing her brows. The vampire slayer smiled darkly and flicked her glasses askew before taking a seat at the table. Integra tcched when she realized that (like all other times) he was going to be staying.

"Do me a favor, _Father_. Get me some cigars in this place. I'm irritable without my cigars," she spat, sitting across from him and running an anxious hand through her hair. Integra Hellsing may not be the most emotional of people, but a year with only a tiny cell and an adjoining bathroom would make anyone a little loopy. Not to mention the cuffs she was still forced to wear unless she was bathing. The Father gave her a rather sympathetic glance and shook his head.

"I cannae do that. Try to hold out; you only have three months left," he reminded her. She sighed and put her head in her hands, staring at the grain of the table.

"Why do you visit me? I've made it clear on many occasions the answers to your questions, so let's just get it out in the open for today. No, I won't convert. No, I won't let the Vatican have what's mine. No, I didn't purposefully attack the Queen of England." She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "I need to get _out_ of here," she mumbled.

"I know, but my orders are to try every week just the same," the paladin said with a shrug. "Besides, don't you like having someone to talk to?" he added. Integra frowned; he had her there.

"I don't like the jokes Alucard makes about it. He can smell that you were here, you know. I've heard so many celibacy jokes that I can't stand it anymore. If I had my gun, I'd of shot myself already." She shrugged and tapped the wood nervously, needing for her hands to do _something_. Anderson rubbed his stubble thoughtfully, chuckling to himself.

"I'm not though…funny that the heathen was once one of our flock, and he still mocks what he doesn't know." Integra blinked at him blankly before holding up her hands.

"I thought all Catholics were abstinent." Anderson rolled his eyes.

"It's more of a discipline than a doctrine. It's to become closer to God. I probably would if I weren't an exception. I have to sire the next Regenerator in line." He grimaced at the thought with an air of expected resignation. Integra nodded slowly; she too had certain obligations in the same area.

"I understand. I have to have an heir someday to the Hellsing line, but…" they finished her thought together.

"who can handle being part of such a burden?" they looked at each other in surprise, both coloring slightly before exhaling in unison. "You too?" Integra asked, her tone gentle. Anderson nodded.

"Not many women want a man who is stalked by unholy beings each night. Even the other Iscariots have their own spouses, or have indeed chosen abstinence. It's hard to accept that fairytale monsters exist, when you grow up being blissfully unaware." Anderson mimicked her posture, his chin on one fist.

"Over half of my soldiers think I'm really a suppressed homosexual, and my job doesn't allow me to socialize much anyway." Integra twirled a strand of bangs around her finger, her mouth set in a thin line. "I guess that maybe the police girl could set me up with a blind date. She gets out often enough, I think." The pair sat quietly, lost in their own slight self-pity at what fate had thrown them. Anderson's watch beeped and he glanced quickly at it.

"Noon." He said dismissively. Usually, he left at this time, reminding her that he'd be back next week. This time was no exception and he rose, calling for the guard. He reached the door and turned, completing the ritual. "I'll return next week, Lady Hellsing," but his tone lacked the usual sarcastic edge. Some understanding passed between the two and Integra dismissed him with a nod, going back to the bed to sit and await her servant and his usual mockery.

* * *

**Afterword: I swear, this does still have something to do with Alucard and Seras. I haven't gone crazy…I've just been watching ****Sharknado****. **


	3. Conversație

"How dare you say that; after I just sat here and told you all the mean things he's done!" Seras stalked across the grounds with the Harkonnen slung over her shoulder, heading for the training grounds. Her second-in-command Harry Stevenson panted after her, tugging the heavy metal case of ammunition.

Seras enjoyed Harry's company. When he'd first arrived as a freckle-faced rookie, she'd been wary of his inexperience but he'd proved himself time and time again to be a strong and strategic soldier and moved up the ranks quickly, especially during the crucial training days following the Valentine massacre. The two soldiers had grown close, although they'd had a short falling out when he'd given her the pet name "Mum". It took a whopping two weeks for the nickname to spread through the manor and now everyone from the Corporals to the kitchen staff called her that, much to her chagrin. She knew why- she couldn't help but feel like they were her children. They'd come to her as wet-eared recruits from the armed forces, but with her nurturing and constant grating she'd smoothed the imperfections and the result was a well-oiled team of troopers that belonged in the top ranks.

"Give the bloke a break, Mum. His last missus was over 200 years ago. He's a bit rusty is all." Seras turned on a dime, not flinching when Stevenson ran headfirst into her cleavage and bounced off. The man's eyes rolled from the impact and he stumbled, dropping the heavy case with a thud.

"Don't give me that, Harry! He's not trying to get me into a relationship-he's just destroying the ones I have already. It's just not right." She stared up at the moon while she waited for him to recover and pick up the ammunition again. "I just don't get what his problem is," she added melancholically. She turned and almost smacked her partner upside the head with her cannon. Harry scratched his head, noting how his commanding officer seemed to be more distracted than usual. _Poor Mum's really taking this to heart. If he didn't make me want to piss my trousers, I'd give that vampire a piece of my mind._ He finished the long haul to the gun-field, watching as Seras took the case from him as though it weighed next to nothing. He flared his nostrils at her display of strength but said nothing as she knelt and began to load up for the first shot.

"Well, what exactly did you tell him before he became angry?" he asked casually. The kitchen maids usually paid well in extra rations for gossip on the resident undead, but Seras didn't need to know that. It was enough that he seemed interested in her problems. Seras looked up at him and narrowed her eyes.

"I just answered his questions about Walter," she said offhandedly, leaning into the barrel of the gun to make sure it was assembled properly. "I mean, I know that I spent a lot of time with him after the whole Tower thing blew over but the man was injured and I felt bad. Was it wrong of me to help an injured old man?" her voice was muffled but he clearly heard the snide tone through the barrel.

"Of course not-just, what did you say _exactly_? Sometimes you don't word things in the best way." Harry averted his eyes as she sent him another death-glare.

"I said that I meet up with Walter for about 30 minutes a few times a week." Her frown became more pronounced when the soldier's eyes bugged from his head and he collapsed into booming laughter. "Is something funny, commander?" she ground out. Harry saw her eyes flashing and sobered quickly when he saw she was becoming a "Code-Crimson", as the veterans called it. No one stayed around Seras when her temper flared. It wasn't good for anything: living or undead.

"Well, that's it then Mum." When she stared at him blankly, he rubbed his chin and sighed. He cared for the woman, really: but sometimes she could be so damn innocent! Did she not even understand what she was implementing when she phrased things like that? "Seras, think about what you just said. If I told you that I met up with _Integra Hellsing_ for about 30 minutes a few times a week, what would your mind immediately think about?" He almost laughed as the thought settled and the Draculina's nose wrinkled in immediate disgust at what must have been a vivid mental image. Suddenly she caught on and gasped, her face turning redder than her eyes. She jumped up and threw the Harkonnen to the ground, running back towards the manor with a keening wail of mortification. Harry chuckled under his breath before looking down at the hefty weapon and its equally heavyweight ammo, both of which would have to make it back to the manor sometime before the dew settled on it.

"Oh, fuck it."

* * *

Alucard sat in his chair with his fingers laced in front of him when a distant cry reached his ears. He glanced up at the ceiling, wondering what _in the world_ his fledgling could be whining about so early in the night. It was Friday so she should have been at the training fields at this time, gallivanting around with that scraggy commander. In fact, he'd heard her boots stomping extra loudly by his door as she went towards the upper level- a sign that she was still vexed with him.

_That's too bad, _he thought. _My decision rests. The police girl will simply have to learn to whom she belongs. It's not as if I ask for much. _He ground his left fang against his bottom teeth as he pondered his little childe's change in attitude and how it seemed to affect him, strangely. His thoughts were missing the dedication they had felt last night, and some tiny part of him wondered if he acted a bit too hastily. Of course, that tiny voice had been quashed almost as fast as it arose, but it seemed to be coming back with more and more ferocity. Almost like boots pounding away at his mind and cracking his resolve…nothing had ever made him rethink his decisions before, but now this little blundering blonde was slowly softening him. _I don't think I like it, _he decided. _I'll have to put a stop to that._

He looked up in surprise when the mental pounding didn't cease and he realized it was _real_ boots pounding at the floors. Someone was in a very big hurry, it seemed. Either that, or Walter had finally went senile and began allowing overweight soldiers into the regiment. Suddenly his door was kicked in violently. He jerked upright, one hand on each of the armrests as he prepared to behead the fool who so rudely entered his private chambers. He only relaxed slightly when he caught the whiff of Seras' scent in the air. The girl was red from head to toe and was taking unneeded breaths, as though she were worn out from her little run. She gave him a long, scathing look before pulling herself together and stomping a foot on the ground.

"I AM _NOT _SLEEPING WITH WALTER!_" _she roared and immediately covered her mouth with both hands. The entire manor was silent; one could hear the rumbling of the pipes in the walls. Suddenly, raucous laughter rang from the above levels and Seras moaned. She hadn't meant for the whole house to hear her confession, but she was so humiliated that her Master had thought that she and Walter had been…She shuddered and closed her eyes against the onslaught of _wrong_ mental images that came to mind. She opened one eye slightly and peeked at her master through her lashes. He was staring at her with a dumbfounded expression, his mouth hanging open wide enough for her to make out the individual points of his fangs. She could make out the outline of his unnaturally wide eyes behind the glasses and gathered what was left of her dignity when she realized he was still watching. She stood ramrod straight in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her and her eyes slightly accusing.

"How could you even imagine such a thing? Walter is like my grandfather or something. I don't like him in that way," she said shakily. She felt as though she might cry, although she couldn't exactly pinpoint why. Alucard closed his mouth and she waited, noticing that the corners were twitching as if he were trying not to laugh at her. She gave a small huff and looked away, staring at the stones on the wall as if they were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. She felt something on her head and gasped when she realized it was her master's hand ruffling her hair. He chuckled darkly, rubbing her head hard enough to chafe her scalp slightly. She looked up at him, perplexed. Wasn't he supposed to be angry with her?

"My innocent little Police Girl. Of course you wouldn't, would you?" She didn't exactly know how to reply to that, but was saved the trouble when the tall man knelt down and came nose-to-nose with her, his hand snaking down around her shoulder and pulling her closer. She gulped, part of her realizing that their faces hadn't been this close since the night he turned her into a vampire. She smelled the blood on his breath and grinned awkwardly, subtly trying to shimmy out of his hold on her and upsetting his hat slightly with her movement.

"Um, Master? My personal space is-well, I mean…" She wracked her brain for a way to politely ask him to move away from her, coming up short. _Damnit! Why can't I talk to him as easily as I can all the other soldiers? We should be closer than I am with __**them**__-he's my master, for Christ's sake! _ A question popped into her mind and she blurted it into his face without thought. "Master, do you hate me?" She was close enough to watch his eyebrows disappear into his hairline as his eyes widened in surprise. She adopted a neutral look as she waited for his answer.

"Not at all." He gave her a small frown, somehow different from his normal scowls. It seemed as though he was actually_ offended_ by the question. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Well, it's just that I don't seem to make you proud or seem to be good company for you, so the opposite of that is that you just don't like me. I mean, how else can you take such a personal interest in my-well, what I mean by that is-You act as if you want me to be alone forever and I don't understand why you care," she tapered off, unsure of how to explain her feelings to him. It was the only logical explanation. HE didn't seem to care whether she was around or not other than that weird blood thing last night, and he certainly never said that he was proud of her or that he enjoyed her company. The only other explanation for his abnormal behavior was that he hated her and didn't want to see her happy. Maybe it was an unspoken vampire thing that you couldn't live a happy undead existence? That you had to be a shut-in like Helena, or a sadistic psychopath like Alucard? "I just want us to be able to talk," she ended lamely.

"Talk." The one word seemed to hold too much meaning for Alucard; he looked weary and Seras felt a slight concern that he was unwell. Could vampires get ill? He straightened up, keeping her close and her nose barely brushed his vest as his hand weighed on her shoulder. "What does it mean-to talk." It was neither a question nor a statement, and Seras frowned at the puzzle he presented. His voice had taken a weird quality-no, he'd developed an accent at some point. Seras tried to see his face, but the hat cast a shadow on him and only the orange lenses shone in the dim lighting.

"Well, Walter and I talk about lots of things. Like how the house is and how Sir Integra's faring in prison and-well, what sort of things I miss about being a human; that sort of thing. And I talk with my men about their families and battle maneuvers and stories about our childhoods." Seras leaned up to look at him, unsure if he was even listening or not. Her heart ached acutely and she bent her head, wringing her hands slightly as she stared at his vest buttons. "I just want us to be close." Even as she spoke the words, some part of her knew that she was asking for something almost unobtainable.

After a long, tense moment he still made no move to answer. Seras sighed, breaking his hold on her with little effort as she turned away. "I just hoped-it doesn't matter. I'll catch you later, Master." She left the room, glancing back when she reached to doorway to see him standing in the same pose, as if frozen in time. She shook her head and pulled the door to, going up to find Walter. She had a hunch that her master wouldn't mind them being together now. And besides, if he did she'd just lather, rinse, and repeat until he washed his hands of her entirely. _It'd kill me I'm sure, but if that's what it takes, _she considered sadly.

* * *

_There are twelve bricks in the wall lengthwise, and fourteen widthwise. If I multiply them, that makes 168 total bricks in the wall. Multiplied by four walls, there are 672 bricks that make up the cell. No, that's only 668 bricks, when you count the four that would have made the window being gone. Wait; now the door is a variable. How many bricks would have made up the door? Let's see- there are three bricks across the top and-_

Integra was pulled out of her mind-numbing brick counting by the nearly-silent arrival of her servant. She smiled cooly at him, rather happy to see the red-clad man. She waited for a snub about the priest being in the room, but none came. Looking closer, she realized that the arrogant grin that so often graced his features was missing. He seemed almost…bewildered. Which was utter hogwash; nothing had ever bewildered Alucard in the entire time she'd known him. _There must have been a variable-but what? _Suddenly, the answer came and Integra shot him a knowing look.

"Having trouble with your little prodigy?" she simpered. Alucard shot her a hateful look and took a seat at the table. Integra didn't bother getting up, only shifting to a slightly more comfortable position on the bed. "I told you what to do if you couldn't handle her-" A low growl cut her off and she tcched in reply. They sat in bitter silence for a long moment before Integra coughed.

"You know, Anderson's not celibate. In fact, he's practically deflowered every female in London. It's a new method to stop vampires from being created." She smiled slightly at her own joke, but Alucard didn't react. Okay, now she was worried. "Alucard, I demand that you tell me what's the matter."

"My Master should keep her long nose to herself," came the harsh reply. Integra growled and swung her legs off the bed, preparing to go and knock her annoying vampire into the wall. He finally spoke when she made the move to stand. "The police girl is an enigma." Integra checked a tic on a mental scorecard: _Integra 1, Alucard 0_. She just knew that Miss Victoria had something to do with his sour mood. Her thoughts quickly turned towards the "problem". Alucard wasn't sure how to deal with this new, unexpected constant that he'd just picked up willy-nilly in a church and now he must be second-guessing his actions. Right?

"Are you having second thoughts about taking on an energetic little snippet like her? I'll admit, the police girl isn't an eyesore but when you get down to it, she's quite the handful." Integra felt the grin slip off her face as Alucard shook his head.

"It's not that-do you really believe a little idiot like her could bring me down? It's just that I don't understand what it is that she wants from me." Integra blinked and pulled herself back into a reclining position, closing her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she felt the nagging withdrawal headache as she waited for him to speak. He sat silently for a long moment, and she opened one eye to peek at him. He slowly straightened up and squared his hunched shoulders before turning to her, his characteristic smile in place.

"No, she's just confusing because she carries too much of humanity in her still. Patience is what is needed here. Not explanations."

"What?" Integra looked at him wearily, trying to follow his conclusion. "You're talking nonsense." Alucard shook his head, chuckling.

"No, my Master. Talking is nonsense. I'll take my leave of you now. Pleasant evening." And with that, he vanished into the wall. Integra stared at the spot he'd occupied before sighing and running a hand through her hair, tugging at it in frustration.

"Damnit all. This is why I need my cigars."


	4. Duh de bunăvoință Corp slab

**Author's Note: **_Hello, my scarf-clad army! (Smiles and looks out at your faces). If you've been following me for a while, you already know about my slightly-lengthy PSAs. There is cookie-cake in the corner. Go get some if you're bored and don't want to listen to me. If you're new, pay attention! Hahaha, I kid. Go get a piece of cake. I'm just gonna babble._

**(Coughs awkwardly) I've been getting a lot of reviews and PMs about whether I plan to make this an IxAA fic as well as the predetermined AxS fic. As you all pretty much know (or should know), I'm a pretty big fan of IxAA, even though it's not canonical and technically is more of a crack pairing. However, given the nature of the-**_**is it too bold to call them requests?-**_**I received; I decided to add more than the subtly-hinted-at IxAA that I was originally going to go for. But I'm a stickler for trying to keep IC when writing and both Integra and Anderson are just…eh. They both have like 0% sex drive it seems. So writing them into a relationship becomes very difficult and relies on a lot of loopholes. Luckily, I'm very good at writing myself through loopholes because I forget the plot of my own story. **

**For all you nay-sayers out there- never fear! This story started out as an AxS fic, and it will continue to be so. (insert cheers here) I may even go into the hardly ventured lemon territory (dramatic music) That all depends on how the story goes. I'm really bad about saying that it will swing one way and then taking ya'll off on a journey that heads in an entirely different direction (coughcough**_**caelietinferno**_**cough). Sometimes ****I'm ****even surprised about the ending. **

**In conclusion, what I'm trying to say can be condensed into three words- Eventual Teggie Sex.  
(Pfft) Well, maybe. Probably. Hopefully. This is just a sex-packed fiction. Walter and Seras, Alucard and Seras, Integra and…well, no. **

_Anyway, on with the story! (bites cookie-cake)_

* * *

Integra smiled as she watched the fireworks shooting off into the night. The flickering bonfires lit her from behind and the shadows danced across the lawn. Seras lead the troops in a rendition of "God Save the Queen," her voice echoing beautifully across the grounds. All in all, it was a wonderful Bonfire Night. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, though-wasn't she supposed to be somewhere else? She turned to find Walter and ask him but ran face first into a warm chest, the breath escaping her lungs in a whoosh. She colored slightly, looking up to apologize only to see that she'd run into Alexander Anderson. _What's he doing here at my party?_

"Who can handle the burden?" he asked desperately, his rough hands on her cheeks as he held her face in his hands. She sputtered in confusion as a firework exploded just above their heads. _Too close! The lawn will burn_, she thought absently. She glanced back at Seras to ask _who_ had invited the Paladin when she realized that Seras was leading a flock of pigeons in a three-part harmony instead of troops. Still, something wasn't right. She just felt it deep down. She shook her head rapidly, trying to clear the fog that was settling in her mind. The pigeons' song was echoing in her ears; its sound both familiar and distant. She was sure she'd heard it somewhere, but _where_? It was as if a childhood memory lay at the edge of her mind, but she couldn't quite grasp it.

"Alu-" she started, before stopping and looking around. Who was she about to call? A-a-Anderson? He was already there, standing with her by the bonfire. That blasted song was stopping her from thinking! She dug her nails into her hands, feeling blood pooling in the gashes that hurt much more than they should've. Tears sprang to her eyes and she covered her hands with her ears as something in the bonfire exploded, sending her flying.

Integra jerked awake as the blast propelled her-along with over 650 bricks- into the inner halls. She had no time to do more than gasp in pain as the floor collapsed, bringing her down with over a ton of twisted metal and cemented brickwork. A shard clipped her glasses and her left eye's vision shattered in a world of broken glass. Luckily, the pieces did little more than scratch her but that was the least of her worries as she plummeted three stories to the hard foundation along with the debris. _I'll be buried! I'm going to-oh God, I'm going to die._ She realized her fate rather calmly despite her situation, and the world slowed into slow motion as she focused on the one tear she shed for herself, wobbling as it was borne upwards by its lesser density. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, drowning out the scream that she half-realized was her own. The tear flashed for a fraction of a second and she blinked before something slammed into her side, throwing her into the half of the second-floor corridor that wasn't collapsing with the rest.

She hit her head on the concrete flooring hard, rolling twice before coming to a stop with something on top of her. She moaned and opened her eyes, her now-useless glasses barely hanging on by their frames. She saw two blurry blue eyes and realized that it was her reflection in a familiar bayonet. Something clapped onto each side of her head and she turned in fright to gaze into green eyes. She fought to get free but the much larger priest held her down, shaking his head and mouthing something over and over.

"What?!" Integra yelled, trying to pull his hands off of her ears, only to have him press harder against her and shake his head violently. He looked frustrated for a moment before leaning down and almost placing his mouth directly on her ear, barely moving his hand to cup around his face.

"Sirensyoucanthearthesong," he muttered almost incomprehensibly before pressing his hand back to her ear again. He pressed his lips into a thin line and jerked his head to the ruined half of the building beside them. Integra blinked up at him before giving a sharp nod, realizing the need for calm in the apparent danger that they were in._ Was that the song-the one from my dream? _She tried to remember how the song went, but for some reason she couldn't remember the rhythm or the words, just the vague impression of pigeons swaying in time to a tuneless tempo.

Having dealt with supernatural creatures all her life, she wasn't entirely surprised to hear of a Siren existing, although England was the last place she expected them to be. Why were they here and why were they attacking the prison? Even so, where was her organization? They should have already been here, combatting the destructive creatures. She had to get in touch with Walter!

She opened her mouth to ask but Anderson shook his head, giving her an "I'll-explain-it-later" look and making a move to stand, taking her head with him. She wobbled as they tried to balance together, finding a way for him to lead her while still holding his hands over her ears. She glimpsed something in his own, making the assumption that he had stuffed his ears so that the song wouldn't tempt him. She glanced behind them as best she could to see the entire side of the building had been blown away, with several other smoking parapets and collapsed piles of debris where before there had been magnificent buildings. _Fireworks…_ Integra stared at the wreckage, spellbound. It was almost too much to take in at one point. _How did I sleep through this? It must have been that song, perhaps_?

Anderson led her up down hallways and up flights of stairs, presumably to the roof where she knew the helipads were. It would explain how he was able to get here, although she honestly had no idea if he'd even left London after yesterday's visit. They moved quickly and carefully, Anderson checking around corners for any presumed threat. They met with no one on the way through the maze of cells. There was no screaming, no shouts from the guards, not another living soul besides their reflections in the broken glass that littered the hallways from shattered windows. Integra wanted to glance into the doors as they passed to see if the rooms' occupants were asleep, but Anderson wasn't stopping for anything, tugging her along impatiently when she slowed the slightest bit. A part of her wondered why he was rescuing her and not any of the other prisoners, but she chalked it up to him seeing her fall and deciding to take her with him on a whim. She couldn't imagine anything to suggest otherwise; the Vatican would surely have cheered over her dead body, and even Anderson was unmoved by her Protestant ways, although he had been polite with her whenever his moral sense won over his mission objectives.

She pondered as Anderson kicked open a door and the pair climbed another flight of steeper stairs, finally arriving at the roof where a lone helicopter awaited them. He nodded at Integra and led her over, turning her around awkwardly to lift her into the copter without having to let his hands off her ears. Their noses touched as they maneuvered into the machine and she glanced at him only to see him look over her shoulder and tug her back immediately, making her lose her balance and fall over his shoulder. She hit the ground with a thud and her brain compelled her to cover her ears, but her tiny, slender hands didn't do the same job as the man's and she really only succeeded in slapping herself with the broken chains on her handcuffs, which were still locked onto her wrists despite the beating they'd been given in the explosion.

She first heard the tiny refrains of music and turned thoughtlessly to see three of the _handsomest _men she'd ever laid eyes on climbing out of the helicopter. They were bare-chested and sculpted, far more gorgeous than any Adonis could ever have been. Their eyes were varying colors of the deepest shades she'd ever seen, and they smiled and reached out to her, one blonde, one brunette, and one raven-haired. She barely registered her feet moving as she made her way towards the compelling men, their baritone voices echoing in her mind. Her hands fell from her ears and she drank in their song, blind to their sharp, rotten teeth that oozed black venom. She didn't notice the flicker of movement to her right, nor did she react to the tackle that would have knocked the breath out of her normally.

It was only when she was pushed over the edge of the building and began the descent that she snapped out of it. She looked up at the blue sky, black smoke staining the bright color. Freefalling-it was a joyous feeling; she felt like she was flying and nothing was going to drag her down. She felt Anderson hold her tightly and she closed her eyes, not caring about whether she'd hit the ground. She heard fluttering around her and peeked beneath her lashes to see pages flying up around them and her body jerked before everything went silent.

* * *

"What the _hell_ were you doing? I told you that you cannae hear a Siren's song!" Anderson threw her to the ground, his eyes flashing green fire as he pulled what looked like wax from his ears. Integra sat splayed on the ground where she fell, the cloudiness taking its sweet time lifting from her mind. She absentmindedly gazed at the green fields all around them. Anderson lifted her onto her feet and growled in her face. "Did you _want_ to die?"

"I dunno. I can't think," she replied wearily, slumping against him. She wanted to sleep, but she had the feeling that she was forgetting something important, but the thought flew away as fast as it was born, leaving behind pleasant emptiness in her mind. Was she in another dream? It didn't even matter anymore. Her companion was nice and unnaturally warm, body heat radiating off of him in waves. She closed her eyes and heard him sigh, the sound echoing through his broad chest. "I'm sleepy," she added unnecessarily. Anderson shook her shoulder slightly and she opened her eyes and rested her chin on his chest, beaming up at him childishly. "Those men were handsome."

"You heard too much of the song. You're drunk from the magic, you stupid woman," the priest declared, but there was no bite to his words. He turned and grasped her arms, practically throwing her onto his back like a rag-doll. She obediently wrapped her arms around his neck and he grabbed her legs, hoisting her up in an oversized piggyback. She went limp once more and he began to walk down the path they were on, talking quietly. "The effects will take a while to wear off, Hellsing. You should probably just sleep."

"Mmm." She swayed on his back, pulling her chin to his shoulder to speak in his ear. "Those men were _pretty_." The paladin nodded.

"Because you like men, you saw handsome men. The Sirens will take the form that you would desire most. It may be generic men or women, or more tailored to your personal wants-if you have a love interest, or perhaps young sailors who see their little burds and perish on the rocks, if you're thinking ancient times." Integra leaned forward more, practically killing her leg muscles to talk directly in his ear.

"You saw pretty ladies, hmm? Did you see a familiar pretty lady?" She tittered slightly, feeling rather carefree at the moment. "You can tell me. I won't blab," she whispered conspiratorially against his skin. Anderson hesitated for a moment before shifting his hold on her, causing her to fall back into her original position against his back.

"Quit that havering. We'll reach the next town by sunset, so just relax and sleep now. You'll feel more normal when you wake up." Integra tried to focus on the path before them, but without her glasses it seemed to waver and she collapsed against him, staring instead at the tiny blonde hairs on his nape. He was right, she was sleepy and the swaying wasn't helping her. She closed her eyes and rested in the crook of his neck, sighing once before dropping off into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

Alexander Anderson paused to readjust the woman on his back, flicking his sleeve back to check the time on his watch. 6:00 p.m.: he'd been walking for well over eight hours, but he wasn't tired in the slightest. _Never tired, not like a human would be_… he shook off the bitter thoughts and continued his journey, knowing that any moment they'd come upon the town he was heading for. He had a personal motel room there- one of the many scattered around the world for his use during missions for the Vatican. He glanced once more at the hands draped over his shoulders, covered in dry blood and deep, gravel-filled gashes and quickened his pace. He needed to tend to her wounds and soon or else run the risk of infection. As if hearing his thoughts, the hands twitched slightly and he felt her head move back from his neck to his shoulder as she turned in her sleep. Her breath was cool against his neck and he shook his head and pressed on hurriedly, the ghost of lips still tingling on his skin from hours earlier.

A farmer walking a cow down the road passed a strange pair on his way home from town. A ragged, bloodstained priest carried a beautiful, unconscious woman on his back, practically running in the opposite direction. The farmer barely had time to tip his hat before they'd passed, the man muttering something about temptation under his breath. He watched until they'd vanished over the knoll before scratching the stubble on his chin and turning to the cow.

"Didja ever see such a sight, Betsy? I hate to say it anything about a godly man, but I think he was a bit looney! Oh, c'mon. We're late as it is, and the missus will never believe that we stopped to take in a sight like this."

* * *

Seras sat on Walter's desk, watching him piddle about the room in the strangely entertaining way that only old men can pull off. He was talking to himself as he straightened stacks of paperwork, sending some down the chute to the furnace in the basement while others he stuck outside in file folders for soldiers to ferry to other places for him. It wasn't very often he had to be in such a state, but Seras knew that he was still catching up on all the missed work that had built up during his recovery period.

She'd never really thought about all the _stuff_ Walter did for the house until he wasn't around to do it anymore. There were potential employees to interview, payrolls to file, mission reports to relay, emails to reroute, meals to plan, people to boss, and on top of all that a house to clean _and _taking care of Sir Integra's needs _**and **_seeing about herself and Alucard's meals and day-to-day activities, all before 10:00 p.m. It was truly mind boggling! It was no surprise that he'd been back at work for a while now but was only just getting caught up. As it was, she tried her best to help him, although she could only busy herself with the less demanding tasks. Tonight, she was copying soldier's reports neatly into ledgers. It took quite a while, as she had to decipher the chicken-scrawl of the soldiers.

"And… done!" she shouted happily, stacking the papers and tapping them into shape on the desk. "You need anything else, Walter?" she asked. The man paused long enough to shake his head, offering her a grateful smile.

"No thank you Miss Victoria. You've helped me so much already. I don't know how I ever managed without you," he admitted. Seras smiled tightly, a flash of anger towards her master flickering through her at the butler's words. _You have no idea how close you were to finding out._ Walter had remained blissfully ignorant of the nature of the resident vampires' scuffle, only knowing that Alucard had once again hurt Seras' feelings, and she retaliated; now they both were sulking in their own way. Alucard stayed holed up in his chambers, and Seras became a workaholic until her anger simmered down into melancholy. Then, nothing could rouse her from her coffin save hunger and the eventual need for a shower.

Seras jumped off the desk and handed him the papers, almost throwing them in the air when the phone began to ring. They both whipped around and stared at the blinking red light on the phone, signaling an outside line was trying to make contact. They looked at each other before glancing at the clock on the bookshelf- 9:45.

"Quarter-till; who in the world could be calling at this hour?" Walter murmured as he picked up the phone.

* * *

Integra woke to her left hand burning, as if being thrust into a flame. Gasping in pain, she made a move to sit up only to have a hand push her shoulder back down. She turned to see Anderson dressed in his under-jacket and pants, his hand holding hers palm-up. She stared in confusion before the events of the day came rushing back all at once, making her eyes almost roll.

"Keep still. I have to get all the debris out of the cuts before you get sick." His stern words shocked her back into reality and she stared at her free hand, the deep gashes ugly against her pale skin. Nodding, she lay back down and closed her eyes. He tugged gently on her arm to move her closer and lay it on his leg, her hand under the table lamp's glow. There was silence for a moment before he drew a sharp breath and let it out slowly. "It's in deep. I'm going to have to dig around in there. This is going to hurt a bit."

"Do what you have to." Integra didn't mean for her words to sound so cold, and her tone softened. "I've dealt with worse than a few tiny scrapes." Slicing your own throat? That hurt. She felt his thumb barely chafe hers before he spoke.

"I'll move as fast as possible." He paused for a moment. "It's alright to cry." Integra nodded but scoffed internally. She wasn't going to break down in front of Angel Dust Anderson! She was a proper Englishwoman, unused to making scenes. Still, his statement made her feel slightly better about the whole situation. She could see how he was well-liked at the orphanage where he worked. Surely the children viewed him as a giant, able to take care of anything from monsters to scraped knees.

She gritted her teeth as he dug down into her hands. She tried to focus on the plinking of the gravel and glass into the ashtray as he removed them. True to his word, he worked quickly and quietly and she managed to not utter a sound throughout the entire procedure. He finished and took a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the bedside table, pouring it carefully over her palm before wrapping her hand in gauze. She watched him warily from her position on the bed, taking note of his deft fingers as he tied off the knot.

"You've done this many times," she said finally, her voice loud against the silence of the room. "For your Iscariots?"

"Nay. I was a soldier once. With doctors dying left and right, we had to learn to dress each other's wounds. But that was a long time ago." The light reflected off his glasses and Integra could just picture a younger, less scarred boy tying a tourniquet with the same amount of focus and skill. He looked up to see her still staring at him and cleared his throat. "The other hand, now."

"Oh, yes." She sat up, swinging her legs off the side of the bed and holding out her hand. They both leaned over; watching as the silver tweezers expertly parted the wounds and probed for any remaining dirt. Anderson wasn't surprised when Integra didn't make a noise. He'd seen grown men cry at the same thing, but he knew the Ice Queen wouldn't let a single whimper escape her. This hand didn't have as much in it, and it seemed no time before he was wrapping it as well. He watched her through his lashes as she stared at her hand while he bandaged it. Without her glasses, her face seemed softer, more womanly somehow. He frowned and turned his attention back to her hand. She'd be home at Hellsing tomorrow, and he'd be rid of such distracting thoughts.

"I should probably call Walter. He'll be worrying about me." She eyed the phone sitting on the table and picked it up, testing her hold on it until she found a way that didn't make her hands throb. She punched in Walter's personal office line and held her breath, watching as the priest tidied up the bloody mess on the ashtray. She heard Walter pick up and let out a breath.

"Walter."


	5. Ostatic Dispus

Seras heard Integra's cool, slightly relieved voice on the other side of the telephone line and watched Walter's face shift between confusion, astonishment, and worry. She heard his heart skip a few beats and a felt a flutter of anxiety. Walter didn't need any big surprises in his condition. She bit her finger and watched him through her lashes as he struggled to find something to say. She felt Alucard's concern through their bond; he'd felt her nervousness and was curious as to what was going on. She relaxed slightly, knowing that if Integra was in any danger her master wouldn't still be here in the manor.

_What __**is**__ it, Police Girl?! _Her master's curiosity finally won over and he snapped impatiently in her mind. She ignored the jab as best she could.

_Sir Integra's on the line, Master. She surprised Walter and his heart-he's still recovering. _She felt Alucard relax and the floor shifted beneath her feet as he phased through the floorboards to stand next to her. Walter saw him and held up a hand, mouthing "wait a moment".

"Sir Integra-where are you?" Seras heard Integra's voice asking something, and a deep, barely audible baritone answered her. Wherever she was, it was with a man. She heard Alucard grumble slightly and looked up to see his eyebrows knitted. She barely touched his sleeve and he looked down at her as if noticing for the first time that she was there with him. Walter gasped and both vampires glanced back at him. "Ireland? How-who-" Walter sputtered and went quiet as Integra's voice drowned him out, her tone urgent. Seras listened curiously to the one side of the conversation that she could hear. "Ah, yes. Yes. No, it hasn't-the fax machine was broken when we moved it during the-ah, okay. Yes ma'am. Alright. No, no- we're fine here. Yes, I'll be sure to get in touch with them. I'll do my best. No, Alucard and Seras are both here. Hmm? Oh, of course; hang on a moment." He held a hand over the receiver. "Miss Victoria, Sir Integra wishes to speak with you directly."

"Hmm?" Seras blinked in surprise. She'd never been particularly close with the woman, but she was friendly enough; she couldn't think of a reason Integra would want to speak to her. "Oh, right!" she hurried forward and took the offered phone. "Hello?"

"Seras. Are you alright?" Integra sounded almost happy to hear the Draculina's voice.

"Yes, I'm fine. But are you alright? I thought you were supposed to be-well, incarcerated?" Seras blushed slightly even though the woman couldn't see her over the phone line. Integra made a sound that sounded like a mix between a giggle and a groan.

"Yes, well; there have been a few unforeseen problems and now I'm technically an escapee. Not by choice, of course but still…" Integra went silent for a few moments as the male voice spoke loudly. Seras couldn't understand half of what was being said, between the man's accent and the static of the phone line. "Go find your own phone! I'm talking to my soldier," she barked and the voice snapped back angrily. "I don't care if the Pope himself is expecting your call! Surely there's more than one phone in the entire town!" Seras choked as the words sank in.

"Sir, are you with; I mean, is that voice A-alexander Anders-son?" She felt Alucard stiffen behind her and her hand flew subconsciously to her neck, rubbing the spot the blessed blade had pierced. The priest terrified her; over 6 feet of bigoted flesh and a walking arsenal of anti-demonic weaponry didn't paint a pretty picture, and the creepy Bible verses didn't help much either. Integra screamed once more in her ear and a door slammed. Seras winced and Integra groaned quietly.

"Yes, and his holier-than-thou attitude is rubbing me the wrong way. I'm one slur away from shoving one of those bayonets down his throat and _twisting_ it." Seras giggled nervously and switched the receiver to her other ear, ignoring the way her master was practically breathing down her shirt in an effort to eavesdrop. "Listen Seras, I need you to bring me some things."

"Of course Sir, but-wouldn't it just be better for Walter and some soldiers to come and get you? I mean, maybe we can work around the system to fix your sentence."

"No, England isn't safe for me right now. I'll explain it all to Walter-I think the Vatican knows more than they're letting on, and I don't like it. I'm sticking to Anderson until I get to the bottom of this."

"But how are you going to convince him to take you to the Vatican? You don't even get along all that well. You almost sound like-" Seras was about to compare them to an old married couple, but caught herself in time. "like a bunch of schoolchildren," she finished lamely. She could practically _hear _Integra's grin as she explained her plan.

"He's a good man, even if he is a bit maniacal at times. He won't leave a helpless woman all alone in a foreign country while her motherland is being attacked. All I need are my clothing, my spare set of glasses, and some personal items: I'm sure I don't have to tell you which ones. Can you get that for me?"

"Roger, Sir! I'll bring them as fast as I can!" Seras chirped into the phone, saluting the air. "Wait, what attack?" she added alarmingly.

"Never mind! Just hurry before the sun rises. Give the phone back to Walter. He can give you directions when you're done. Just don't bring Alucard; I don't want a bloody brawl in my hotel room."

* * *

Alucard sat on Integra's bed and watched his childe scurry around the room, looking for Integra's personal belongings. She stuffed them as neatly as she could into a large knapsack and paused to count off the mental checklist on her fingers.

"Alright, we have a toothbrush, deodorant and lady-things; nightgown, knickers, two sets of day clothing, hairbrush, her handgun, spare glasses and another set of shoes." She turned to Alucard and frowned as she noticed his sullen appearance. "Don't be sad, Master. I'm sure it's for the best that Sir Integra doesn't want you there." After she'd left for upstairs, Walter had relayed the woman's orders to her vampire servant, who immediately retaliated with such force that Integra had to get him on the phone and _order _him to stay at the manor. "You don't have to worry: if he hurts Sir Integra, I'll be sure to protect her." She glanced over to the bookshelf and rearranged a spot in the sack. "Can never know when you need a good book," she murmured to herself.

"My master can fend for herself quite well. It's not her I'm worried about." Seras absently nodded as she bent over to look at the books. Picking up a regency romance, she flipped through the dog-eared pages and nodded to herself. Clearly the book was a favorite- it had been read through many times. She tossed it between her hands and turned to motion to Alucard.

"There's room for one more book. Which one should I pick?" Alucard picked himself up and walked over, only to immediately pull out an old book of world myths and hand it to her. She frowned at the expensive binding. "I dunno; she's going to be traveling and this book may get messed up. It's really old."

"That one," Alucard insisted and Seras shrugged, sticking it with the romance into the bag and closing the top. He watched as she slung it over her shoulder and tested the weight to make sure Integra could handle carrying it.

"I think that about does it," she said, looking around the room with a final nod. "I suppose I better hurry up and go down to see Walter. If I have to go to Ireland tonight I had better get going!" She turned to leave and a gloved hand pulled her back. "What's the matter?" She stared down at the silver gun in his other hand.

"Take this with you. You can't carry that cannon to a peaceful meeting, but you can hide this. It packs enough of a punch that even Anderson will have to take a moment to recover. Just in case." Seras frowned down at the Cassul; the gun that took away her life and gave her a new start. She felt a mix of feelings toward it, but he was right. She knew firsthand what sort of power lay within the unassuming weapon.

"Master, I'll be fine," she protested but took the Cassul anyway and slid it into her uniform pocket. "Don't worry about me. I can handle this." She grinned up at him and scratched behind her ear awkwardly. _Is he ever going to remember that I'm an adult? I'm not a kid anymore; I know how to take care of myself. _ He didn't reply, only patting her head affectionately and vanishing back into the floor from whence he came. Seras re-fluffed her hair and turned to head back to Walter's office, a tiny grin etched on her face.

* * *

_Yep, this is definitely the right place, _Seras thought sarcastically as the sound of helicopter blades faded into the distance and were replaced by shouting and the occasional smash. She gathered her willpower and walked to the door, knocking rapidly. She almost turned tail and ran when Anderson slung open the door with a look of absolute frustration and fury mingled across his features.

"Ah-er, I um," she began, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight. She gulped and looked around Anderson to the interior of the room. It looked as though a hurricane had struck; chairs strewn and items littering the floor everywhere, with an angry blonde woman tapping her foot impatiently in the middle of it all. She saluted, slipping easily into her soldier-state of mind. "Sir! I brought the requested items," she prattled off professionally, trying to ignore the livid Scotsman that stood within arm's reach away.

"Of course, Victoria. Thank you," Integra said nonchalantly, elbowing the priest in the side on her way to the nervous vampire. Anderson hissed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his restraint only betrayed by his grinding teeth. Seras winced in sympathy for the man- she knew what it was like trying to deal with a stubborn person who was clearly used to having orders obeyed; she'd often noticed the parallels between her master and Sir Integra. He glared at her and she offered a pitying smile as she handed over the knapsack.

"Can't you take your whore home with the rest o' your lot?" he snarled, jerking his head in the direction of the circling helicopter in the distance. Not knowing how to address the question, Seras simply shrugged and looked pointedly at her master's master. Integra narrowed her eyes.

"No, she can't: I told you that I'm staying with you. I won't tolerate you Papists thinking that you can run information in circles around _my _organization and we won't notice a thing!" Seras backed away at the shrill edge to Integra's tone; clearly she was getting too worked up, but what to do?

"I won't let you! I'm not sharing my room with a filthy Jessie!" he roared and tried to shut her out of the hotel, but Integra somehow managed to slip through the crack as it closed.

"If I can tolerate your brown-nose for a while then you should have no problem with me," she hissed loudly. Seras leaned closer to the door with a hand over her mouth to keep the laughter from escaping. _Boy, Master's going to love this! _she thought gleefully.

_Oh, I am most certainly enjoying these sweet sounds of battle_, he purred into her mind and she rolled her eyes. _Do you think they really harbor such hate, or is it all just sexual tension? _Seras almost let a guffaw slip out and turned, running away from the hotel to meet the helicopter in the designated pickup area.

_No idea, Master. No idea. _

* * *

"It seems that Sir Integra was right. England is under attack; not by vampires, but by Sirens," Walter explained as he moved around the office. Seras sat on the desk and Alucard stood by the door, both of them trained on the old man as he paced the room.

"Sirens; you mean like mermaids?" Seras asked as she stifled a yawn. She was usually asleep by now, but Walter had insisted she come for a briefing after she returned from her "mission". Alucard shook his head.

"Sirens aren't like the stories, Police Girl. They have legs like you and I." He turned his attention to Walter. "Although in my experience, they do stay situated in Southern Europe near the coastlines. What would drive them so far north?"

"No idea, although I doubt they'd do this on their own. Sirens are not the world's smartest creatures, but they'd probably make an effort if there was something in it for them, wouldn't you think?" the butler replied. Alucard hummed and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Seras tried to hide another yawn, but her master caught the action.

"It's late in the morning and sleep beckons us both, Seras. Do you wish to stay here and listen to old men talk of pending war?" he asked teasingly. Seras blinked groggily at him.

"I don't presume to know what's best, Master. If you need me here, I'll stay." Walter smiled knowingly and turned to peruse the bookshelves that lined his office walls. He plucked one out and eyed the cover before handing it to Seras.

"Miss Victoria, this book is a handwritten account of monsters from some of Hellsing's finest historians and field agents. I needn't enlighten you that there are worse things out there than your kind; of that you're already well aware. But still, you should read this. I daresay you'll find it interesting." Seras opened the book and flipped the pages, admiring the eerie illustrations and side notes scrawled in the margins. She tucked the book under her arm and thanked Walter, who simply bowed. "Alucard, what should I do about the soldiers?" Seras turned in the doorway to watch the two men once more.

"Separate them into categories of married and unmarried. The Police Girl and I will do the rest tomorrow evening and with any luck we'll begin the counterattack." Walter picked up the phone and called the front desk to announce an assembly and began to scribble notes on a spare sheet of paper. Seras bid him good day before Alucard placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and guided her down to the basement.

* * *

Integra tried to hide her victory smile as Anderson griped into the phone . After calling his superiors the second time, they'd told him to "take the Hellsing woman hostage and don't let her out of your sight". After his hour-long shout fest with whoever was on the other end of the line, he'd finally given up and sat like a scolded child as he listened to his orders. She mentally patted herself on the back for correctly anticipating the Church's reaction to her being out of jail and in Anderson's "custody", occasionally giving him smug looks as he glared daggers at her. Finally he ended the call and remained in the chair, giving her the once-over and rubbing his stubble.

"I just dinnae know what to do with you now," he sighed in vexation. "If I had a right mind, I'd kill you and say it was an accident." Integra scoffed and turned her attention to the bag Seras brought her, fishing through the contents.

"We both know you'd never do that," she replied curtly. "You follow orders too well." Her eyes flitted up to meet with his and his scowl became more pronounced as he saw the triumphant gleam in them.

"I agree, and now look what at what I've gotten myself into. All of my rooms are one-person outfits, Hellsing." He gestured to the tiny space they now had to share for the night. "Where do ya think you're going to sleep?"

"On the bed, of course. Same as you." Integra pulled out her nightgown and toothbrush, looking over to the bathroom absently and missing the incredulous look the paladin gave her.

"Are you daft? We're not-" Integra turned back and flashed him a haughty smile.

"Oh, I'm not worried. A priest wouldn't do anything_ unholy_ to me, I'm sure," she interrupted. Her smirk widened at the look on his face. "In fact, I bet that I could undress right here and you wouldn't peek. That's how righteous you are, right Father?" At his silence, she hummed in satisfaction and sauntered into the bathroom. She'd barely gotten her top off before he flung open the door and she whirled around with a gasp. He arched one brow at her plain-featured bra before giving her a wide grin.

"I wasn't always a Catholic, you know," he leered before slamming the door again. She stood frozen for a long moment before feeling the heat rush to her face. Turning away, she smiled in the mirror as she waited for the water to heat up.

_If that's the sort of war you want, I'm more than happy to oblige. _


	6. Nerespectarea Cont

**Author's Note**_**:**__ I'm trying to put the events in chronological order as to what time of day it is. (It's even hard for me to keep track of what night delves into what day. TT_TT) So here's a brief timeline of events that happened: _

Day 1: (Thursday): That's Chapter 1.  
Day 2: (Friday): Chapter 2- morning, Chapter 3- night  
Day 3: (Saturday): Chapter 4- morning, Chapter 5- night.

_So now we're on Sunday. Wow, this was a busy weekend for our little characters huh? The chapters won't always follow this format- for example; this chapter covers Sunday and Monday. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page. (Flails helplessly) I'm really bad at organizing times. This is why I'll never be a good time traveler. _

* * *

Integra got comfortable under the covers and sighed, placing her glasses on the bedside table. After a long and drawn out argument that included her almost tackling Anderson onto the bed and suffocating him with a pillow, the two had agreed to a temporary truce.

"If we're going to be working together from now on, we need to at least _try _to be civil to one another. I won't say anything about your Catholic scumbag ways, and you don't call me a whore or talk about my Protestant heathenism. Got it?" She had held out her and after a long moment, the man had shaken it.

"You're right, Hellsing. My orders are to not let you out of my sight, and that's going to be hard enough. We shouldn't fight." He'd eyed her angrily. "But when this is over-"

"I agree wholeheartedly. When this is over, don't expect any mercy, Father." She dug her nails into his glove and he almost crushed a few bones in her hand before they let go, each smiling viciously at the other.

Now, they'd worked out a bed system until Anderson could get in touch with the Vatican's accounting office and ask for better hotel rooms. Integra was to sleep under all the blankets since she stayed chilly even in warm weather, and Anderson was always warm enough to stay on top of the covers. Apparently, his enhanced abilities as a Regenerator had also increased his metabolism to a level where his body radiated warmth from the overactive cells.

Even though it was almost 10:00 am, Anderson had been awake for over 24 hours and Integra _felt _as though she had, too. Anderson had warned her that being under the influence of the siren's call would drain her and he was right. She rested her head against the comfy hotel pillows and let her mind wander to Alucard. He was asleep at the moment, his mind slow and steady as ocean waves. If she focused long enough she could catch fleeting mental snapshots of his dreams, which were a mix of his memories and modern day experiences. Sometimes she'd see herself and Walter mixed in with faceless armies, although now most of his dreams usually involved Seras in some way.

"Is the ceiling really so interesting?" Anderson's voice startled her as he walked into the room, dressed in a baggy, plain, white shirt and his normal pants. He hesitated a moment before taking off his glasses and putting them next to hers, crawling carefully on the bed as though he expected it to explode. They both squirmed around to try and find a comfortable position that didn't involve touching each other. The bed wasn't made for two and they were quite cramped. Finally, Anderson gave up and flipped over on his side with a sigh, facing her. They blinked blurrily at each other before Integra yawned.

"Actually, I was watching Alucard dream," she admitted. Anderson huffed quietly and stretched out on the bed, his feet hanging off the end.

"What does the monster dream about, pray tell?" Anderson quipped, but she could hear the curiosity in his voice. Integra considered telling him some story about Hell and demons before rolling her eyes at her own imagination.

"Mostly Seras nowadays."

"Who-ah, the Draculina?" Anderson asked. "Humph. Perverted fantasies, I'm sure."

"I wouldn't know," Integra said with another yawn. "I only get a fraction of a second to view the dream before it fades away again. I don't know how he feels about her. Sometimes I wish I could understand their conversations."

"Conversations? What, has he taught her another language or something?" Anderson didn't even try to hide his curiosity now.

"No I hear them in my mind. If I think about it, that is: it's only there if I actively seek it out."

"Some form of-_yawn_-telepathy I suppose?" Anderson pushed his arm up under the pillow and closed his eyes.

"I guess. The same kind that lets me talk to him. But don't laugh at how corny it is; they sound like two bats chirping at each other in my mind. Just squeaks and trills. Walter said that it might be because they aren't human anymore, so their brains work in a more advanced way that I can't comprehend." She closed her eyes and heard his weary reaction.

"Huh… tha's something else, vampires with advanced brains." She simply made a agreeing sound and relaxed. She felt him do the same on the other side of the bed. His body heat was like an electric blanket and she could smell the toothpaste on his breath. She barely had time to think about the absurd intimacy of it all before her torpor won over and she floated off.

* * *

"Amen." Integra opened her eyes and stretched leisurely, reaching across the empty bed for her glasses and slipping them on. Anderson was kneeling by the bed already dressed and ready, having just finished his prayers. He gave her a neutral stare. "Sleep well, Hellsing?"

"I slept very well, thank you." She stretched again, stifling a yawn and rubbing one eye under the glasses. "Did you?"

"Well enough, I suppose. I thought I had woken you trying to shove you off of my legs, but you can sleep through anything, it seems." Integra blinked at him before realizing that she was indeed out from under the covers. She shook her head and shrugged; she was hungry and she didn't function well on an empty stomach.

"I can't help what I do in my sleep. You probably had your legs in my personal space, didn't you?" she shuffled through her bag for some clothing and came up with a conservative shirt and pants. "What? She didn't pack me another suit in here?" she grumbled. Walking around him, she headed for the bathroom to change and freshen up.

"You'll never know," he called after her. "I've got my men bringing us some dinner and me an enormous stack of paperwork. With any luck we'll be heading to a better hotel tomorrow."

"Good." Integra slipped on the clothing and began brushing knots out of her hair. She'd just finished brushing her teeth when she heard two female voices from the other side of the closed door, followed by what sounded like a bellowing bull. Slipping out into the room, she saw a livid Anderson staring at the paper and a two women trembling and backing away. Well, she _thought _it was two women, as one wore a priest's garb and looked as though she could pass for either.

"But Father Anderson, we did try! I don't think it's fair either, but…" the raven-haired nun mumbled in a thick Welsh accent, wringing her hands. She caught sight of Integra and took one look at the woman before blushing and scurrying to stand behind the man/woman/priest.

"Ja. Dey said you've been racking up too many expenses lately. Dey don't have money in de budget for higher priced hotel rooms," the cross-dressing (nun, thank goodness) said, tapping the paper with one finger.

"What sort of expenses? I don't see any expenses on here!" Anderson roared and Integra walked around to peer over his arm and look at the letter. _We apologize but your request for funding has been denied- _The timid nun poked her head around her partner.

"Demolition cost, media suppression, extensive property damage; you know, the same as your usual missions," she said helpfully. Anderson gave her a withering look and she squeaked and pointed at Integra. "Let me get your food for you, Miss…Hellsing?" she asked anxiously, looking between Anderson and her partner. The blonde nun looked skeptically over her glasses at the woman.

"You don't look like de pictures. Are you really Integral Hellsing?" Anderson was still fuming over the papers and walked over to the phone, dialing it hard enough to crack the casing. Integra arched an eyebrow at his temper before turning back to the nuns.

"I am," she stated. The pair looked her over as one before muttering to themselves. Finally the timid one shrugged and adjusted her glasses, walking over to the bags and peering inside.

"Vell, perhaps you just look different without de suit," the cross-dressing one acknowledged. "I am Heinkel and dis is Yumiko." She jerked her head over to the nun currently unpacking boxes of what looked like pasta. "I feel sorry for Anderson, having to babysit you while doing his own work," she added venomously.

"Your boss doesn't have to "babysit" me at all. I can take care of myself. Your superiors only ordered him to take me hostage because I wasn't planning on leaving in the first place." Yumiko fumbled with the packaging and sent Integra a frightened look. Heinkel just looked annoyed and shrugged.

"Call it what you vant, left-legger." Anderson looked up from his call to send the nuns a look.

"We'll have no name-calling in this room, Wolfe." He turned back to the table again. "I don't care if they don't want to talk to me! I have orders from Maxwell himself and if I don't get a better room, I swear to God above that-" At the sight of the three curious women he snarled and dropped his voice to a quiet monotone, turning to face the wall.

"Um, here you go." Yumiko motioned to the spread that now took up most of the table. "You may have to eat standing up but I was told that this is the best food this town has to offer." Integra looked eagerly over the repast before jumping as Anderson slammed down the phone.

"Tha's it. I'm going to kill every accountant in that city when I get back," he vowed angrily. Integra looked over and sighed.

"Does this mean I won't get my cigars?"

* * *

Seras stretched out her legs and rested her hands on her knees, leaning forward slightly and looking over the edge of the parapet. In the distance, the soldiers were walking formations and their patterns reminded her of birds flying south for the winter. She hummed happily to herself and turned her eyes to the full moon in the sky hanging low over the landscape. With her vampiric eyesight it was as if she was staring at it through high-powered binoculars; each crack and crevice was laid bare to her crimson gaze.

"So beautiful," she murmured and closed her eyes, letting the light wash over her. Even if she couldn't stand in the bare sunlight for more than a few minutes, she'd always have the feel of the moon's cool beams.

"A lovely night, isn't it?" Something pressed on her back and she opened her eyes and twisted her head to see that Alucard had decided to join her, mocking her position with his back against hers. "It's nights like this that make me want a bite to drink." He grinned at his own wordplay and she rolled her eyes and leaned against him. _Cor, but he's as stiff as a wall! Doesn't he know how to lighten up? _She sighed and let her neck loll back on his shoulder, staring up at the multitude of stars scattered across the inky sky.

"You've been around for a long time, huh Master?" she asked quietly, her eyes trained on the twinkling dots. She shifted against him and curled her knees up to her chest.

"Do you even have to ask?" His tone oozed smugness. Seras scoffed and nudged him with her shoulder. "What's on your mind, Police Girl?"

"Nothing really. I just was thinking that you've seen lots of things, haven't you? I wonder what sort of new things I'll have seen when I'm as old as you."

"Who knows? Humans are so changeable. They always want something better, something new. They can't be happy with the things they've been given," he replied. His voice vibrated against her back, tickling slightly and she shifted again. "It's impossible for you to be still, isn't it?" he complained lightly.

"Humph. At least I can relax, unlike you," she teased back, nudging him again. They collapsed into companionable silence and watched the soldiers train in the darkness. Seras closed her eyes again and listened to the sounds of the night echoing from the forests and meadows around the manor. If she concentrated enough, she could hear the faint bustling of London just over the horizon. _I could take a nap right now_, she thought. Alucard's back was solid and almost warm against her own, and he rocked her slightly with every shallow, unneeded breath he took. She basked in the comfort of the night, allowing a smile to rest on her face. _If only I could stay like this forever_… the thought came unbidden. _Could _she stay like this forever, watching over Hellsing and its inhabitants with Alucard? Would they just sit up here on the parapets together every night like a pair of breathing gargoyles? Perhaps. "Master, I never want to leave this place," she admitted confidently.

"Then you're an idiot," he answered. "The world isn't limited to England, Seras. There are so many places to see. You shouldn't stick to one place forever until you've traveled a bit." Seras twisted around to look at him. He was staring at the moon like she was, but his eyes were distant. What was he remembering? His own travels and the incidents that led him to the place he was now? She rose up on her knees and tugged his sleeve.

"You'll take me one day, right? To see the world." He looked contemplatively at her for a moment before nodding.

"If that is what you wish." Seras beamed up at him and plopped back on her heels. She could just imagine; when her master took her around the world, what would he show her? Magnificent castles built into mountainsides? Frothy, rolling black oceans at the end of the world? She was sure that if she asked, he'd be able to find some and show her. Where to go first? Seras didn't care if he meant tomorrow or a thousand years from now. She was going to plan some stops that she wanted to see, but what _did _she want to see?

"I want to see the place you were born," she finally declared in excitement. Alucard frowned and crossed his arms under his coat.

"No, you don't. It's nothing more than a heap of ancient stones and cursed memories," he spit bitterly. Pulling in closer to himself, Seras saw the beginning of either a tantrum or a depressing sulk-fest; neither of which were good for her or Walter as they would have to deal with the vampire sometime later. Seras thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"Well, you'll just have to go rebuild it. I want to see," she shot back. When he didn't answer, she shrugged and reached up, pulling the glasses carefully off his nose. He made a sharp sound and she ignored him, slipping the frames on curiously. The world went orange for a moment before her eyes sharpened and she looked around. With the glasses on, the glare of the moonlight was cut and she saw that the lenses seemed to work as sunglasses for nighttime. "Ooh, I want a pair of these!" she crowed happily, admiring how much better she could see with them on. No wonder he wore them on missions. You had no chance of missing your shot!

"Too bad. They're one of a kind and I'm not giving them away," he grabbed her chin with one hand to hold her still while he pulled the glasses off her nose and tucked them into his pocket. Undeterred, she grabbed the hat from his head and slid it on next, laughing at herself childishly. "What, is it my necktie next? Do you plan on undressing me up here?" he growled in annoyance as she pulled at the brim, making it flop over her blonde locks. She winked at him from under the hat and he made a move to grab for it. She jumped up out of reach of his long arms and stuck her tongue out daintily; ignoring the warning hiss he sent her way. She jumped with a laugh, holding tightly to the brim as she tumbled towards the ground. Landing on her feet, she set off around the side of the manor in a dead sprint, hearing him land inches behind her. She barreled around the corner and passed by the front doors when someone shouted her name. Sliding to a stop, she turned and grinned sheepishly as Walter waved the dust cloud she'd created away with a kerchief and coughed slightly. He pursed his lips at her and they both looked as a seething Alucard stalked his way towards them.

"_You try my patience, Draculina_," the vampire ground out as he held out a hand. Seras took the hat off her head, snapped the brim to get any dust off, and stood on her tip-toes to sit it on his head, knocking it askew as she stumbled slightly. He fixed it and set his jaw, his irritation on full display. She gave Walter a sly look and he sent her back an exasperated one that let her know she was playing with fire.

"Now that Miss Victoria has finished her flirting," he started and paused as Seras let out an embarrassed eep, "might I remind you both that the country is under attack?"

* * *

Afterword: This is a shorter chapter. Sorry. More filler before we get to the good stuff.


	7. Chemare la Arme

**Author's Note**_**: **__I'm sorry if I've been confusing people with the two separate stories going on. I promise that they're going to be slowly merging into one bigger story. (Sighs) I actually never intended for this to span more than 3 chapters. Why do I always do this to myself?! (Not that I mind, actually. This story is quickly becoming my baby right now, until something else comes along) _

_Thanks for all the amazing reviews! It's hard to remember to thank everyone personally for reviewing, but I do enjoy all the reviews and they make me want to keep writing for all of my little scarf-clad readers! So thank you very much! (Grins happily) Now, back to the story! _

* * *

Integra watched Anderson push his two subordinates (minions) out of the hotel room, both protesting wildly at their new orders. He'd given them a sealed letter with strict orders to give it personally to Maxwell.

"You know that they always shoot the messenger! Can't you just call them instead?" Yumiko was practically in tears as she tried to reason with the irate priest. Integra watched in sympathy as the two women pled their case.

"I already did, and that didn't work as you can tell. Now quit your whimpering and get that letter back to the Vatican ASAP. I don't want to spend more nights than I have to with the Human Freezer sticking her cold feet on my calves!" The women nodded dutifully before scurrying into the night.

* * *

"Wake up!"

Integra's eyes shot open and she looked up at the woman standing at the foot of the bed. The stern, motherly glance had her on her feet in an instant, clutching her nightgown for dear life. Anderson had volunteered to use the last of his pocket money to trek into town for her "damned cigars", under the notion that she was to stay put and get some more rest. His cell phone, which Heinkel had brought from where he'd left it at the orphanage, lay forgotten on the nightstand. Integra was alone, face to face with-

"M-Margaret Thatcher?" The Iron Lady pursed her lips and crossed her arms irritably over her chest. "What are you doing here? Is this a dream?" Integra looked around for any sign of strange happenings, as the former Prime Minister currently looking with disdain at her starchy nightgown wasn't enough.

"The better question is: what are you doing here! Your comrade is in trouble, and here you are sleeping the night away!" Integra floundered for a moment, trying to figure out what the woman meant. "I'm your Spirit Guide; you're supposed to listen to me, no matter how unpopular I seem in the polls!"

"I understand, ma'am. But…" Integra jumped on a limb and decided they must be talking about Anderson. "I have no idea where he is; what am I supposed to do; run out there in my dressing gown and start shooting blindly?" The woman pointed to the table, where the priest's supply of beeswax had been placed "just in case".

"Of course you aren't! That wouldn't be very English of you, would it? But you can't be letting someone die while you sit around like a ninny. Go out and save him, but make sure you use that wax, and _liberally_ apply it too. Then those unholy creatures can't harm you. Now hurry, there's not any time to lose!" The woman nodded as cannons boomed in the distance and red-clad soldiers marched in formation across the hotel room.

"J-just what's going on?!" Integra sat up and realized she was back in bed, in a hotel room thankfully empty of British Prime Ministers and victory marches. She took one look at the cellular on the table before jumping up and grabbing the wax, stuffing it inside each ear and running out the door, gun in hand. "Stupid Catholic! How can he keep track of an orphanage of children and still be so scatterbrained?" she growled to herself as she took a chance and ran down the path leading north. Despite her anger towards the priest, her heart still thudded with anxiety. What if it turned out she was too late? What sort of hype would fall on her shoulders? There'd be another Crusade for sure: she could hear them now. _Those English dogs did this on purpose! _She willed herself to run faster as she met with a hill, leading her back towards town (she hoped). It didn't help that any sounds of bustle from the sleepy village were dimmed by the thick wax in her ears.

Running onward, she crested the hill to see two figures at the bottom, at least 15 feet ahead. It was no trouble to place Anderson, who seemed to be both trying to fight the man on the other side of the road and walk towards him willingly. The strange man held out his hands imploringly, his short blonde hair waving in the breeze and Integra's heart skipped a few beats at the implication. She heard terrible screeching coming from the creature's open, venomous mouth and realized with a start that it was singing. The beeswax didn't muffle the song; it simply allowed Integra to hear the true nature of the beast that stood down the lane. _How does that work? _she wondered for a moment before snapping to attention. Anderson was in grave danger, and unless she did something quickly things would be out of control!

* * *

"Here's what we know about the creatures we're up against. Thankfully, our contacts in the Mediterranean countries have found that the Greeks knew well the dangers of Sirens. It's not just another half-truth in a story, I'm afraid." Walter looked out at the weathered, attentive faces of the soldiers. Seras was on the front row squished in between Harry Stevenson and Alucard, both of whom were glaring daggers at each other; Stevenson protectively, Alucard possessively. Seras seemed oblivious to both of them (though Walter decided that she was intentionally ignoring them by her body language) and had her eyes trained on the instructional PowerPoint that Walter had on the projector. Walter cleared his throat and continued, trying to hide his amusement.

"I say thankfully, because our Greek fellows kept a good record of their dealings and they are accessible to us now, although it cost us an arm and a leg to look at them." He pressed the button on his laser pointer and the slide changed to a bulleted list of facts. "Sirens live in groups near the rocky cliffs that line the Europe's southern oceans. They enjoy this region because of the lack of vegetation.

"This is point number one: beeswax. Beeswax is a natural thing, created by bees of course. Sirens are susceptible to it, as well as to wood such as hawthorn or ash. Christians will tell you that this is because Sirens are unholy creatures, although whether that's true or not remains to be unknown. We all know from experience that sometimes myths aren't all they seem." Everyone looked pointedly at the two vampires on the front row. Alucard grinned back viciously at the crowd and Seras ducked under their scrutiny, her face flaming.

"Yes, well: point number two: Sirens only seem to be able to hunt the unmarried. While vampires and other creatures can create ghouls from virgins and the like, Sirens can't hypnotize the married, divorced, or widowed; the Greeks didn't find this out, although the Romans did years later. This is bad for us, because of one thing. Please stand if you are married, or _were_ married at some point." Alucard stood, as well as about a hundred soldiers. Seras looked around curiously. The married population was definitely in the minority, but she accounted that to the young, fresher faces of new men. _Wow, if this had happened before the Valentine's attack; I bet over half of those men would have been able to stand. _Her heart twisted as she remembered the countless new widows at the graveside funeral, which seemed so long ago now. Turning back around in her chair she eyed Harry, who met her glance with a grim nod. He too realized the point Walter was trying to make. The men sat back down, now abuzz with newfound unease.

"Yes, that's exactly my point. The ones who remained sitting aren't going to be able to fight; they'll stay at home here, protecting the manor." Seras raised her hand and Walter acknowledged her.

"But Walter, what about the beeswax? You just said that they negate the effects of the song." The butler nodded.

"Yes, that's true but this brings me to point three: defeating the creatures. You see men: even if you have enough beeswax for every one of your troops, you still have to be able to see a Siren's heart and pierce it. Now, if you're unmarried still, the Siren will appear to you in the form you think most attractive. For instance, you may find yourself in combat with your girlfriend or a beautiful, helpless woman." He turned slightly pink and coughed before continuing. "Some of you may even see men, I suppose. Still, the one problem remains. Each Siren's heart is located on a different part of its body. These are not uniform creatures like you and I. Each one is uniquely and grotesquely shaped. I've heard it's quite the horrific sight." Seras looked around as a man she didn't know in the back of the crowd stood and spoke with a raspy voice.

"So married men can see their hearts?" he sounded confused. "I mean, that would be pretty damn weird but if my wife had a pulsing heart where her right eye should be, it probably wouldn't be that hard to shoot her." Another man on the other side of the room guffawed.

"If I saw my ex-wife, it wouldn't be hard for me to shoot her at all!" The men fell into laughter at the confession. Seras covered her mouth as a giggle escaped and Harry was trying to remain serious, his cheeks turning blue as he held his breath to keep from chuckling. Walter smiled indulgently at the men before clearing his throat and letting the laughter subside, knowing that it was born from their need to do _something _to relieve their growing apprehension at the upcoming battle.

"Very funny; but I'm afraid you mistook my meaning. It's not that you would see your wives in place of gorgeous women," he narrowed his eyes as another ripple of laughter worked through the crowd at his words. "_In all seriousness_, you would see the creatures for what they really look like, not an illusion." The butler repressed a slight shudder as he hit the next slide. Seras jumped back in the chair with a shriek; the men let out a collective gasp at the picture on the slide. Only Alucard seemed unfazed by the image.

"_This _is a picture of a Siren, taken by a courageous, or foolish, photographer. Since pheromones can't come through photographs, everyone can see its true form here on the screen. Not beauty pageant material, I assure you."

That was an understatement. It was hard to see that the creature was alive or even something that was real and not in an R-rated horror film. It was humanoid in only the vaguest sense of the word. Its skin was jaundiced; cracked, peeling, and oozing yellowish-green pus that trailed like tears down its face and limbs. Its eyes were dim and either extremely bloodshot or naturally orange and black. The misshapen, thin arms hung past the knobby knees and ended in thick black claws. Its mouth was open in a gaping maw that revealed blackened, rotting teeth covered in mucus and slimy excretions. On its side, a translucent, fluid filled sac covered in thick veins served as the heart. Walter allowed the crowd time to adjust to the horrible image before clicking the slide and revealing the end of the slideshow.

"Yes, I agree wholeheartedly with your reactions. It looks like something out of Bruegel's works, in my opinion. But _this_ is what we are fighting against: this is our enemy." His eyes narrowed and he stood ramrod straight, resolve written across his features. "Hellsing will not back down to this threat any more than we would vampires. These are unholy creatures that need to be silenced in order to preserve Country and Crown. I expect nothing less from the best soldiers our country has to offer. Meet with your individual Captains for orders. Unmarried men will be under Captain Victoria. Married men will work with both Alucard and Captain Penn." With that, he ended his lecture and walked offstage.

There was a deafening clamor that followed as chairs scraped the floors and men separated into two groups. Alucard stood at the head of one, looking out over the minority. The raspy-voiced man from earlier stood at his side. Seras looked over at them before studying the amassed men before her, many more than was necessary for what she'd be in charge of doing while the others were fighting. She saw Walter and waved him over, motioning to whisper in his ear when he walked her way.

"I honestly don't need this many men in charge of security and reconnaissance. Do you need help in ammunition and distribution? I can spare more than a few." Walter eyed the troop before nodding his assent and pointing out ten burly men.

"You lot, come with me. I need your help carrying boxes and guns." The men looked to their new Captain, who nodded and shooed them away teasingly before turning to see if she had any familiar faces from her own troop in the crowd. There was Stevenson, of course; a bandy-legged fellow that was relatively new named Roans, a dark skinned man who looked as if he belonged in jail who went by the name Stash… other than that, it seemed everyone was unfamiliar to her. _Good, I always enjoy getting to meet new people. I just hope they'll feel the same way. _

_That should be the least of your worries, Police Girl. _Seras fought the urge to whip her head around and look at her master, who was currently letting Captain Penn say his piece to the men.

_I know. Besides, I'm not the one having to worry. You all had better be careful out there, Master. _She felt her unease for the men grow. She didn't have to worry about her Master; something this trivial wouldn't be a problem for him to clear up. But she doubted they'd _all_ get out without any casualties whatsoever._ Humans are so fragile._

_You act as though I've never commanded soldiers before. _He couldn't keep his delight at the upcoming battle out of their bond and she frowned at the feeling. It was a slightly uncomfortable emotion for her; although when she first heard that they were going to war she had felt the ghost of excitement as well.

_No sir. I've simply read how you treated your military before. I care for a good number of those men. I don't want… _she wrinkled her eyebrows and set her jaw; she refused to even imagine that possibility. If she thought about them dying, then they may as well have been dead. She trained her men better than that-as their commanding officer, she should be confident in their abilities!

_Do not worry yourself. _His tone was actually sincere for once and she felt a phantom touch brush her head before the soldiers left the room to get ready for battle. She smiled and turned back to her own men, explaining the details of their part in Walter's grand scheme. She truly didn't need to worry; she had a kickass Master who would have things taken care of before anyone had time to think twice.

* * *

The gunshot echoed through the countryside. Anderson backed up in confusion, his eyes flashing towards Integra. The strange man jerked as the bullet pierced through his head, but acted as though it was nothing. The screeching song ceased for one moment as the creature's brown eyes flitted to where Integra stood at the base of the hill, her gun in her outstretched hands. It hissed; a thick, gurgling sound that made every hair on Integra's body stand straight. She squashed the fear bubbling inside her as she unloaded another shot in the Siren's stomach, trying to bring it down. The shot worked and it fell to its knees, vomiting a slick, oily mess of sludge and venom. She took the moment to run towards the pair, moving towards Anderson with the intent on pushing him out of harm's way for the time being until she could stuff some wax down his ears.

Something snagged her gown and she fell flat on the hard-packed dirt, the gun clattering out of her hands. She looked back to see the Siren had the tail end of her gown in hideous clawed hands, causing a large tear to rip up the side and angle across her back. He leered at her, the gurgling sound rising to another screech. She smirked, turning her head to one side in a mocking way. The Siren seemed to notice that its song had no effect and the screeching sound rose in pitch until it became a scream. Anderson flung his hands over his ears, his face contorted in pain. Integra winced, but kept her ears uncovered and watched as the Siren turned blue, then purple. Suddenly, its eyes bulged and its head exploded. Integra couldn't help herself; she gagged as thick chunks of black mess splattered across her ripped gown. The stench was unbearable. The now-headless body wiggled a few seconds before relaxing and dissolving into black swill. Integra looked at the body with a morbid fascination. _I just watched someone literally sing themselves to death. He was so obsessed with making me suffer, he sang himself to death. How…strange. _

She carefully stood, looking in disgust at the ruined gown. There was no way she could ever scrub the odor out of it. She adjusted it to where it wouldn't be right up on her neck, unbuttoning the collar down to the last button. She looked over to see Anderson staring blankly at the mess on the ground and made her way over to him after she retrieved her gun from where it had landed.

"Are you alright?" When he didn't answer, she stepped closer and peered up into his eyes. The usually-brilliant emerald orbs were dulled and vacant. "Paladin Anderson?" He noticed her, looking down at her face for a moment, but still silent. "Alexander?" she tried again. He seemed to look right through her, but a moment later he smiled cheerfully.

"It's not often I get to see the same girl's chest twice in one day," he crowed. Integra blinked up at him before gasping and holding the collar to her gown shut again. He chuckled at her actions before his eyes narrowed. "Hey, I know you." He put one finger on her nose and pushed slightly with every word. "Integra. Fairbrook. Wingates. Hellsing." She slapped his hand away, realizing what was going on. _Drunk on magic_; the words flew back into her mind unbidden and she sighed heavily, understanding what she had to do.

"You're drunk. Come on; let's go back to the hotel." Anderson gave her a bewildered look that dissolved into anger.

"Hey!" he snapped, swaying as he tried to tower over her. "I am _not_ drunk. I haven't drank in over-over 40 years now, so don't you start on me, lassie!" He swayed a moment longer before practically falling on top of her. She managed to hold him up with his arm flopped over her shoulders. "Whoa. The ground is shaking. Must be an earthquake or somethin'" he slurred and looked around.

"Just come on. We need to get to the hotel room, okay?" Integra hadn't ever dealt with any drunkards. She hoped that he wouldn't get too angry and start swinging at her, although in his current state she wasn't sure that it would do much damage. She started walking and to her relief he followed her, letting her guide him down the road.

"Ah, if you just wanted a little nip you coulda come out and said it. No need to be shy and all." He laughed in her ear, although she wasn't sure if there was an actual joke in his sentence or if he was simply laughing for the pleasure of it. She watched the countryside as they walked, wary of any more attacks by unseen forces. Now that she looked closely, she could see evidence of a battle. _Just how long was he out here? If I was brought down by a small amount of exposure, what in the hell's going to happen to him? _

* * *

**Afterword**: What indeed? I got Margaret Thatcher off of the manga, of course. I would have no idea who the spirit of Integra's gun is. I'd like to think the spirit of her sword is Uma Thurman. ^w^


	8. Afecțiune

**Author's Note:** I swear I love this farmer. He's actually modeled after my grandfather, who does indeed have a _pet _cow named Betsy. My granny isn't quite as harsh as this goodwife, though.

* * *

The mild-mannered farmer stood at the end of the drive with his wife, looking at the break in the fence in the fading light. On the path, Betsy the cow chewed her cud at her ease. The wife growled something sharply and the poor farmer took off his weather-beaten hat and scratched the little bit of hair he had left.

"I just dunno how it happened, if'n it wasn't that creature. Betsy didn't do this much damage, I know. She's too old." The farmer plopped the hat back on his head and shrugged to his wife. "I'm guessing I'll get to fixing it after supper." The wife nodded vigorously before bending down to pick up Betsy's lead.

"First you see strange priests on the roadside, now you spout something about monsters breaking the fence and screeching at night; I'm starting to think you're addled after 60-odd years in the sun," the sharp-tongued woman scowled. The man gave her a half-hearted look and sighed wearily.

Suddenly, a cheerful shout sounded from over the hill and the pair turned to see a scarred priest running pell-mell down the hillside, being chased by a blonde woman in a torn nightgown holding a gun. The pair watched as the priest passed down by the drive, calling out a cheerful "God be with you, friends!" before the woman caught up, jumping on his back in a tackle before nodding quickly to the farmer and his wife as she grabbed the man's hands and lugged him back in the opposite direction. They managed to make it back over the hill before disappearing. The goodwife looked over at her husband, who took the cow's lead from the shell-shocked woman and walked away while whistling a jaunty tune. Sometimes it took seeing it with your own eyes to realize that there were some _strange _people in the world.

* * *

Integra turned the lock on the door after sliding the "Do not Disturb" sign on the outside, hoping to keep meddling maids from cleaning and waking them all up in the morning. She sighed, wracking her brain in an effort to think of a way to keep Anderson from running out the door in his state. He'd managed to break away from her three times on the way back to the hotel, running down the lane and shouting about how he had to spread the word of God across every countryside in the world. She'd barely been able to catch up to him the last time, and much too tired to offer an explanation to the puzzled old couple that had been watching the spectacle from the safety of their driveway.

"Alright, I think that we need to-" she said exhaustedly as she turned before shrieking and covering her eyes. "_What in the hell are you doing_!?" The now-shirtless man paused his fumbling, holding his belt in both hands and staring at her like she was out of _her _mind.

"I cannae sleep in such messy clothes. It'll ruin the bed," he explained matter-of-factly, as if undressing in front of a practically strange woman was a natural occurrence in his life. She rubbed her flaming cheeks and strode across the room to grab the belt from his hands, eyes trained on his face. _He's not himself-he's not himself-he's not himself_: her personal mantra was confirmed when she caught the blissful, fuzzy look in his eyes as he smiled at her, his glasses hanging askew.

"Ah-er, I think that your pants are well enough to last tonight. We can clean the bed sheets tomorrow. Um," she looked around and spied her book laying on the nightstand where she'd begun reading it while he was gone before turning in. Even though it was a sappy romance, she still shoved it into his hands and pushed him on the bed, fluffing the pillows to try and get him comfortable. He looked up at her expectantly as she readied the bed around him.

"You just stay here on the bed and read the nice book. I'll be back in a moment; I need to change, too." She patted his shoulder awkwardly before searching around the floor for something to use as sleepwear until she could buy a new nightgown. Her old clothes were covered in dirt and glass, and she needed to use the new ones the next day. Spying something white, she picked it up to see it was Anderson's oversized designated sleeping shirt and shrugged to herself. She needed something, and he could sleep without a shirt for one night. He was too intoxicated to care right now, anyway. She slipped into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, combed through her hair and stripped in record time, keeping her bra on and pulling the shirt over her head. It billowed around her legs and came to rest at her knees, although the sleeves hung low on her ribs, slipped down over one shoulder, and showed far too much of her skin to be ladylike. Well, she could take it or leave it, and leaving it wasn't an option.

She peered back into the room to see her book back on the table, but thankfully Anderson was still in the room. He was staring out the tiny window, pulling the curtains back to gaze up at the moon, his jaw slack. She fiddled for a moment with the front of the shirt, trying to get it to stay up on both shoulders before giving up and walking over to join him. She decided to just play along until she could convince him to get into bed and eventually sleep it off. He turned to look at her as she made her way to his side, his face weary.

"The moon is beautiful." He sounded almost lucid, and Integra wondered if his Regeneration powers allowed him to process the magic faster than a normal human. "Don't you ever just stop and look up and see how beautiful it is?" She shook her head slightly, staring up at the crescent shape as well.

"No. I haven't got time for things like that." It was true; she was always busy keeping Alucard out of trouble, or stopping childish fights among the ranks. Paperwork, meetings, online conferences, emails, telephone calls; she barely had a moment to breathe and relax, much less look into the sky to see if the big, dead ball was still hanging on up there. Anderson made a small sound in the back of his throat and she looked over to see him staring at her, his face still lit in awe. "What is it?" she asked, trying not to sound too impatient. He was clearly still slightly inebriated, despite his enhanced blood. Besides, (from what she remembered) he had been patient enough with her. She should return the favor.

"Tha's my shirt," he informed her softly, and she nodded and fingered the material, quietly admiring the worn-in feeling rubbing softly against her skin.

"I hope you don' t mind; that damned creature ripped my-" she froze mid-sentence as he brushed her hair off her shoulder, picking up the fabric slightly before letting it drape back down over her shoulder. He followed the path it took with his fingers, brushing lightly as he dipped down past her collarbone. He murmured under his breath and Integra gasped, feeling the blood rush back into her face as her muscles locked. If his hand kept with the curve of the collar, he'd eventually reach-she unfroze and grabbed his hand tightly, pulling it away. When the touch was broken, she was finally able to inhale normally and she looked up sharply in alarm to see his gaze roaming over her curiously.

"You know, I wondered what your skin felt like, back when I had you pinned against the wall in Badrick," he declared unashamedly, rubbing his fingers together as they hung at his side. He made his way woozily to the bed, flopping down on it and stretching out with a sigh. Integra considered crawling over him to reach her spot for a full second before making the conclusion that that was a bad idea. Instead she walked over with the intent of pushing him over onto "her" side and sleeping against the edge tonight. She shrieked loudly when he pulled her down and over him, rolling them both onto their sides and pulling her close, his arm around her. She hissed angrily and pushed against him to no avail; his arm was like a chunk of steel holding her down.

"Let me go!" she shouted, slapping his chest with her free hand hard. It hurt her more than it did him, and she shook her hand and swore in a very unladylike fashion. The thought that her father would have blushed at her words passed through her mind before Anderson caught her hand in his, turning it over to see if she'd hurt herself smacking him.

"Next time, punch me. It will put less strain on your bones and your wrist," he explained expertly, pressing her slender hand into a fist, her thumb tucked safely beneath her fingers. "Be sure to hit with your fingers, and push the brunt to your knuckles for maximum damage." She looked at the fist before rearing back and punching him hard in the chest. It didn't hurt her, but the sound thumped in his chest and he let out a breath before chuckling. "Not me! You can't really hurt me, even if you tried. You would have to be bigger." She groaned and looked up at the ceiling as he let out another breathy chuckle and patted her hand gently. _Tonight is not my night._

* * *

Back at Hellsing Manor, Walter was second-guessing his previous judgment that these were the finest England had to offer. He'd only heard one update from Penn, saying that the front against the sirens in London were so far, so good. Walter had been assured that this would be so, and the forces protecting the manor were just a precaution. After the Valentine's attack, both he and Integra had adopted a personal policy of "Better Safe than Sorry", which always ended up being the best policy anyway. However, as he watched the bored men under Captain Victoria's care, one would have thought that it was the day of the company picnic.

"_Queenie, Queenie, who's got the ball_?" Seras turned around and put a mock-thoughtful face on, walking in front of the men lined up with their hands behind their backs. She stopped before a few, looking deep into their mirthful faces like a buxom Sherlock Holmes before stepping back and putting her hands behind her own back.

"Aw, c'mon Seras! Pick one already!" one soldier yelled out. The others started to goad her as well until she singled out a man in the middle. He grinned and showed his hands, shaking his head. Walter sighed and felt the years practically flying away on the wind. How did watching over grown men and a vampire turn into being playground monitor for a bunch of childish soldiers? Rolling his eyes, he nevertheless pointed out a man on the end.

"No cheating, Rodgers! I saw you stick that in your belt."

* * *

Alucard busted the head off another Siren, laughing as it fell to the ground in a twitching mass of black gore and twisted limbs. It was quite entertaining, clearing the filthy streets of this filthy town of filthy vermin. And killing the Sirens was proving to be fun, too.

He couldn't help thinking about his little blonde pet as he shot both humans and Sirens at his own pace, leaving the army far behind under the control of the captain. He wished she were here by his side; she was simply _mouthwatering _when her eyes were deep crimson and she drank in the battle like a true vampire should. He had never said the young woman didn't have any potential. If he'd thought that, he'd never have changed her. She was gorgeous and violent in her own special way, yet at the same time she could be playful and silly. Yes, he'd grown more than fond of the little fledgling he'd picked up in the cathedral that fateful night.

Stomping the legs of a Siren to dust just to hear its scream of pain, he gazed thoughtfully at the blood-red moon that hung low over the horizon, following his unconscious command. He'd willingly agreed to let her tag along and show her the sights of Europe, without any thought about how that would slow him down in whatever on-the-fly plan he'd indulge in next. _Do I value her happiness that deeply? _He hadn't really considered it before, yet the more he looked at it the more he found that yes, he did.

It floored him slightly and he almost missed watching the spray of congealed blood that spurted from the creature beneath his feet as he shot absently. He'd never cared about much before in his life. Even his wife, whom he'd chosen on a mix of lust and the need to have one around just because; he hadn't _cared_ all that much about the woman. Yes, he'd been fond of her in his own way, but she'd never loved him and only killed herself from fear of what his brother's forces would do to her once his castle was stormed. By the time that happened, he was already long gone from that place, and her body had been left on the rocks. He might have saved her, if she'd had faith in him. Maybe.

But Seras was different, it seemed. He didn't enjoy seeing her disappointment as much as he should've. But that wasn't the only thing; time and again she'd defied him, disrespected him, embarrassed him, and yet time and again he'd let her go and even forgotten her transgressions in favor of her triumphs that filled him with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

He even dreamed of her, a backdrop against the nightmares of his memories. Often it was _her _being impaled by the Turks, and he was trying to get to her before it was too late with her screams of pain echoing in his ears. But then again, his dreams often melded with hers between their minds and he felt the horror of her own repressed pain. He'd watched from her eyes as the men raped her mother brutally more times than he could count. He'd felt her fear and sorrow as the life drained out of her, his own self a shadow in her memory bending down to end her existence. But unlike his own dreary unconsciousness, she also dreamed of peace and happiness, and he realized very quickly that he was always, _always_ in those dreams. Was her only happiness his presence? Surely he wasn't that great to be around.

Shaking his head, he adjusted his glasses and continued his spree, resolving to ask the girl _why_ once he returned to her side. Perhaps that was why they were so good for each other; he never minded having someone like her to return to, partly because he knew she'd always come back to him, too.

* * *

"I've never been in your room for a visit before, even though we've been partners for a while now." Stevenson walked around the room, looking curiously at the coffin. However, he'd been warned not to touch her bed, and he understood what the word "boundaries" meant well enough to choose to sit at the carved wooden chair instead, placing his tray of chicken and gravy down and opening the accompanying napkin packet to get to his fork. Seras joined him on the other side of the table, placing his drink beside him before taking the seat opposite him. She had put her blood in a glass with a straw for his benefit; he said he could stomach the sight of it when he could dismiss it as some sort of rusty-smelling fruit juice. Noticing her staring at his chicken, he pushed the plate to her without thinking. "Want some?"

"I used to like chicken and gravy. Hmm." Seras reached out and placed a drop of gravy on her pinky, sticking it in her mouth and looking pensive. Noticing her companion's bated breath, she smiled sadly and shrugged. "Tastes like ash, honestly." She washed the dusty tang down with her blood, ignoring the bolt of sadness in her chest. She knew that the tiny amount of gravy wouldn't make her sick, but she was sad to see it tasted awful. For a fraction of a second, she thought she might be able to handle human food in miniscule amounts, like some diabetics could with sugar. _Wouldn't master laugh at me right now. _

"You do drink stuff other than blood, right? I've seen you order fruit drinks at the pubs when we all go out." Stevenson shoveled another mouthful as he watched the sad look on his captain's face. She still got depressed thinking about humanity and herself, it seemed.

"Mhmm. I can drink fruit juice and even alcohol. It's basically wheat blood, just with lots of added stuff, so it's more like a soft drink: not good for you, but still tasty." She smiled and took another sip of blood. "I guess Master enjoys his wine, although it's a little too sweet for me. I never tell him that, though."

"Peer pressure gets us all," the human teased as he inhaled his meal. Seras shook her head and rolled her eyes before starting. Stevenson watched her eyes blank for a moment before she downed the blood in one fell swoop and stood.

"My master has returned, and he's got important news!" she said excitedly. Stevenson nodded and swallowed the rest of his meal in two bites before getting up and following her out the door and upstairs.

* * *

Integra lay stiffer than a board in the bed. It was bad enough that she was being manhandled by a drunken Scottish clergyman, but it was actually affecting her in ways she'd rather not mention (or hear Alucard crow about later, if he was paying any attention). She kept numbering the reasons in her head she _shouldn't _be getting flustered: he was a Catholic, he worked for Maxwell, he was her enemy, he was a bigoted jerk- but her mind kept jumping to the fingers trailing patterns over her ribs and the fact that a thin scrap of shirt was the only thing keeping them from touching her bare skin. The jerk in question heaved a quiet sigh and she resisted looking up to see what the matter was.

"You know, it's been over 50 years since I touched a woman at all. Can you believe it? Half a century." His hand brushed the opening to the sleeve and she gritted her teeth, the conflicting emotions making her want to tear her own hair out.

"Why so long?" she managed after a moment, her jaw locked and her fists clenched. He chuckled above her head and rubbed her tensed arm, making goose bumps rise as she fought the shiver trying to work its way across her body. When he finally spoke, his voice was laden with something undefinable.

"When I was young, I lived the life of a sinner. I was born to two perfectly Christian parents, but I rejected their ways and went my own path. I drank, smoke, gambled… women in my bed every night, and a perpetual hangover every day. It was Satan's life, and I foolishly reveled in my materialistic greed. But then when I was drafted and became a soldier, I almost died. God led the Church to me, and with His help I became a new man. He gave me the Church and the orphanage, and I've spend the past 55 years obeying His command and trying to repay Him for what He's done for me. My earthly existence could have sent me to Hell, but God's glory gave me a second chance." He paused for a moment before nodding. "And I've been that way ever since."

Integra shifted to look up at him, more than a little dumbfounded. She'd never imagined that Alexander Anderson, _holier-than-thou_ Anderson, _Papist-or-heathen-no-in-between-them_ Anderson would ever have demons that ran so deep. He gazed back at her, his eyes meeting hers and he smiled, reaching out to touch her hair softly.

"And now, Maxwell says I must marry. What to do?" he whispered mournfully, as if marriage was the last thing he wanted to think about. Integra could understand to some extent; she didn't want to marry either, but she knew she had to do so. Unlike her, Anderson already knew the carnal life and he had turned away from it, only to be forced back by his superior. _It must be eating him up inside_. She sighed and pulled his hand away from her face, but couldn't bring herself to let go of it.

"A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies," Integra quoted, squeezing his hand gently before placing on the mattress between them and finally moving away the slightest bit, to give herself some breathing room. Anderson nodded sagely, offering a quiet "Amen" before looking thoughtfully at her, his green eyes wavering in the dim light of the room.

"She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instructions is on her tongue; she watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness." He moved closer, sitting up to lean over her and grasping her hands. "Amen. She dinnae stare at moon, either."

"What? No-no! I'm not, I didn't mean that-" Integra backed up from under the hulking man and shook her head, her Scripture backfiring in her face. She only meant it to be comforting, that he'd have a hard time finding a suitable wife, because it said so in the Bible. He'd used the same damned Proverb to draw his own conclusions, the bastard! He moved closer, boxing her into the corner and sitting close but not touching. His eyes stared at her determinedly and she shook her head, feeling for the second time in her life like a small, helpless little girl. "I'm not the one you want; you're drunk," she tried to reason softly.

"Wrong. I haven't touched a drop in over 50 years, Hellsing. I'm not drunk. I'm having an epiphany," he said with a warm smile. She glanced down at a movement to see him holding out his hand, a tarnished silver ring in his palm. She'd caught sight of the ring before whenever he'd taken off his gloves, but hadn't asked what it represented.

"What's that?" she said shakily, pointing to the ring. He looked down before holding the dull silver up to catch the light, turning with an expression of pride on his face.

"No matter how deep into sin I fell, my da never disowned me. Even on his deathbed, he called me his son. And my inheritance was the family ring, which has been the eldest son's since the dawn of the family name. It's not much, but it's all I have to offer right now." He held the ring out to her again, patiently waiting for her answer.

Integra stared at the ring, feeling faint. The voices swirled in her head and she tried to pull them into focus. Sir Irons stood in her mind's eye, listening to her pleas even as she knew they fell on deaf ears. "_Nonsense, Integra. You're going to have to produce an heir, whether you like it or not. Now, I'm sure you can find a nice young gentleman to get acquainted with and marry. I don't care who, as long as it will get us a new leader. You know as well as I do what __**he'd**__ do with free reign if the Hellsing blood ever died out."_ Alucard and Seras had both alluded to the inevitable future when a child's feet could be heard pattering all over the house, and Walter had even started suggesting getting her old things out in an effort to subtly spur her on.

Still, Anderson was under the influence of the magic… right? He seemed much more reasonable and clear now than he had been even a full hour ago. Maybe he was being serious in his roundabout offer of marriage. Would he even remember it tomorrow? She gulped and looked at the silver circle that represented her future. One syllable from her, whether positive or negative, could change the course of her entire life. Then all of a sudden, the weight that was bearing down on her just… disappeared. She felt clear-headed and logical, and she smelt the hint of mahogany leather in the air. _Father? _

She lifted her head to see Anderson still staring at her, his expression one of blank patience. He didn't seem as though he'd noticed anything, but she could have sworn- looking at the ring again, she considered her answer. It would certainly benefit everyone. Irons would have his heir _and_ Anderson would have his next Regenerator, Integra wouldn't have to go on awkward blind dates, and Alucard would still be subservient to England. Of course, he and Anderson would duke it out on more than one occasion, but she could always handle that. She and Anderson would fight, but most married couples did anyway and she never really felt all that emotionally wrecked afterwards. The only problem was…

"I don't love you, though," she admitted. Anderson didn't bat an eye, only shrugging half-heartedly.

"What is matrimony, but the "status of being a mother"? We don't have to be married for love: most Iscariots aren't, since the Church usually decides for them. "When given proper air and cared for, fondness and respect can blossom to love." That's the unofficial saying." He gave her a doe-eyed look and to her surprise, turned slightly pink. "I respect you and… I'm fond enough of you. You're not bad company, when you try hard enough."

"Well, I'm a _Protestant_! You're not forcing me to change." Again, he waved her words away.

"I can ask permission for a mixed marriage. You won't have to change you heathen ways, since you're still basically a Christian." He arched a brow at her. "Any more objections?" Integra grumbled and shook her head, trying to think of a reason he didn't have a loophole for. Finally, she sighed and allowed the trembles that had been threatening her all night go through her spine. It was the only weakness she'd ever allow to show to anyone, much less _him. _She reached out and tentatively took the ring from his warm palm. It was too broad for her fingers, instead having to go onto her thumb, the only place where the knuckle caught it before it slid off.

"I guess I'm fond enough of you too," she muttered, still feeling rather warm from his caresses. "And it's for the greater good. I'm literally lying back to think of England, I guess." She rubbed her face wearily- she was fatigued from chasing him down the back lanes all afternoon, and the stress didn't help. He looked at her with concern and pulled them both back to the bed. This time, she didn't even bother trying to get him to let go. She was just too tired.

"When this all is over," he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing the skin, "I will let you have whatever sort of ceremony you want. _Integra_." She shivered again and he pulled the sheet over her, missing the red face that turned over to hide in the pillow at the sound of her name.


	9. Coșmar (alt Taming of the Shrew)

**Author's Note**_**: **__I feel so lucky, you wanna hug me (what rhymes with hug me?) _*dances away, scarf wavering in the wind*

* * *

"_So you take the high road, and I'll take the low road; and I'll be in Scotland afore ye._" Anderson looked at the tiny transistor radio on the windowsill that faithfully crooned the old, familiar song to the fields beyond the wooden platform. He rubbed his eyes and looked around at the familiar decorations on the walls, where they'd always been from his first memories to the day he left forever. A plump woman with her hair in a braided bun hummed along with the song as she stirred something on the stove. She turned when he shifted to stand, the stray hairs curling from the heat around her face and framing her glittering green eyes. She wiped her hands on her apron and went to sit across from him at the table, picking up a wooden circle of embroidery. _Idle hands are the Devil's playthings, ye know. _

"So you're to be married now. How wonderful!" the woman exclaimed after a silent moment. Anderson looked at her, feeling like a child again even though he towered over the woman and the table in his seat. "And to a nice Christian lassie. I knew you'd find someone someday."

"I'm to be married?" Anderson frowned in confusion and rubbed a hand through his hair, wracking his brains. He barely remembered a silver ring glinting in the light of a hotel room….

"Oh, aye. I just wish you had my wedding gown to marry her in. Something old, you know and that gown's been in my mother's family for ages." The woman smiled fondly and reached over the table to pat the broad hand that rested on the other end. "I know you'll be a good husband. But take my advice. A marriage must have respect and trust. Just look at your da and me; we may not have known each other long before marrying, but it lasted all the same, because we built it on trust." She waved her finger in the air at him, her face becoming stern. "God sees everything, Alex. You can't be untrue without three souls knowing." Anderson nodded obediently.

"Ma, I don't know if I can get married. I'm worried that-" He colored slightly and frowned. He never talked much with either of his parents about what he was doing when he went missing. They'd treated him like the prodigal son when he returned, but they'd never asked where he'd been and he'd never told them. It shamed him that he disrespected the Anderson family name in such a way, and besides the entire village had known about it when he left for Edinburgh. "I'm worried that I'll fall back into old habits," he finished neutrally, looking up at the kind woman with a saddened expression. His mother clucked and shook her head.

"God gave us partners to keep us _out_ of temptation, Alex. You know the Scriptures. And besides, she's enough of a firebrand to keep you out of the whiskey and smokes. You'll have a rough time breaking that horse, as your da would say." She smiled and placed her embroidery back on the table, getting up and flicking the scraps out of her apron before walking over to the stove. Anderson watched her with a smile before looking over at the radio, still playing the song amid crackling static.

"Ma," he began as he rubbed his chin. "This isn't real, is it? You never had a transistor radio. They weren't even invented until after you passed in '47." The woman grinned impishly from the stove, waving her hand dismissively.

"Of course it's not real. 'Tis only a dream, after all. You're still in Ireland."

* * *

Seras swung her legs out childishly; she closed her eyes and listening to the whispering winds move in the trees. It spoke of change, and she was certain that she understood. Change was coming, but was it for the better? Only time, or her Master, could tell.

"Ow! Fucking bugger, Victoria!" She stopped mid-kick and opened her eyes to see one of her men rubbing the back of his head, angrily glaring up at her. She smiled apologetically and crossed her legs under herself to keep from accidentally beheading someone with an errant kick. She saw Alucard arch his brows and she slid off of the banister, coming to stand closer to him while the other soldiers filed in slowly and take their seats.

"Seras," he acknowledged almost indulgently, bowing his head as she drifted nearer. She smiled and stood as close as she dared, the corner of his sleeve barely brushing her bare forearm. They never touched each other in public settings; such an intimacy was saved for when it was just the two of them. People would begin to talk about relationships and other humanly things, which were of course all lies. Seras and her master weren't "an item"; they simply shared a higher plane of existence that humans neither could nor _should _understand.

Seras was pretty sure there were higher tiers of intimacy, if you will, but she wasn't sure if she'd ever find someone to reach it with seeing as Alucard seemed to have the sex drive of an elderly hamster. Sure, he would crack jokes about sex and even go so far to tease his prude of a boss, but the entire time she'd known him he'd never taken a lover or even seemed interested in pursuing a woman. She had wondered for a time if he was gay, but she highly doubted it (although with the way he fawned over his guns, she still was wary of it sometimes).

No, that wasn't all true; she didn't give him enough credit. She'd caught him staring once or twice at her when she ran to the vans for missions or climbed stairs or… anything that involved her chest moving in any way whatsoever. Perhaps he was just more subtle about his needs, or-well, there was another way, and he did spend an awful lot of time alone, didn't he? Seras winced and pulled her mind out of its current train of thought. Forget the gutter; she was going straight into the sewers with her mental images.

_Police Girl, please try and pay attention. I have no time or patience to give you a private briefing, _her master chastised when he saw her absent expression. Seras jumped to attention and stood to the side, out of the way of the podium as Alucard looked over his audience. He looked at Walter, who nodded curtly and pressed the button on the projector. A map of England, Scotland, and Ireland popped up and Captain Penn tapped a pointer against the flimsy screen.

"As some of you know, we managed to destroy all of the enemy forces around the city of London, with many civilian fatalities but only minimal casualties on our side, which lead me to believe you men _weren't trying hard_ enough." A sinister grin reminded the assembled of how lucky they were that Alucard wasn't their permanent commander. "In the process, I managed to choke down enough Siren blood to see their plan. Unfortunately, Sirens are incredibly dense. They can only follow basic orders. Even Ghouls are more competent." He looked vaguely irritated for a moment before his face was schooled back into the default creepy smile. Captain Penn pointed to a tiny place in the corner of the map, near the bright blue expanse of ocean.

"Liverpool," he said in a bored tone. "The Sirens are based in Liverpool, and have been traveling all over the country wreaking havoc in closed numbers. Small towns can be drained of people in a week's time, but larger cities need higher numbers as we are seeing. Now, we can't send every eligible soldier to Liverpool to fight, so we need a new plan of action." Alucard leaned against the podium, nodding in time with the captain's speech. The men whispered among themselves, but Seras looked to Walter, who had his hand on his chin. He was clearly working up a Plan B.

_Master, what of Sir Integra? We'll have to debrief her on this too, right? _Alucard didn't move his head, but Seras could still feel his eyes boring into hers from behind the orange lenses.

_Yes, my little Seras. My master should be pleased with my progress, no? _Seras shrugged discreetly and turned to leave the room. She wasn't needed anymore; the men wouldn't be given orders until Sir Integra had been fully informed, so she might as well go and try to salvage a few extra hours' sleep.

* * *

Seras ran down the corridors, dodging men in turbans who leered at her breasts as she barreled by. She knew she had to reach someone important, but she wasn't sure who, or even why. Part of her wondered at the awe of the unfamiliar, yet somehow nostalgic feeling of the imagery that flew past her peripherals. Finally, she turned a final corner and something compelled her to stop at a plain, unassuming door. She heard moaning, screaming, and cries for both God and Allah coming from all around her in the crowded hallways from both men and women, but whoever was behind the door stayed quiet. She assumed her best pose and ran at the door, shrieking like a demon before rearing up and kicking it inward, shattering the lock.

It was a child, no more than twelve-years-old at the most. He wasn't chained to anything, but sat among rats and general filth and looked at her. His ebony hair was matted and hanging in his face, and his skin was so dirty she couldn't tell what color it was originally supposed to be. She didn't smell anything aside from the horrid stench coming from the corner, and looked against her will to see a rotting corpse lying there among refuse. She looked back to the boy to see him staring at the door absently, his eyes shining a brilliant blue against his black hair. He stared without any sort of emotion at all; he was a blank slate, empty and erased. She felt tears spring to her eyes and she ran over, slipping and sliding in the garbage and rat feces to hold him. He didn't respond to her touch; he could have been a breathing doll for all anyone knew.

"I'm sorry. I tried, but I'm too late," Seras whispered against his cheek, letting the tears fall for the both of them as she stroked his dingy hair. She felt something brush against her arm and looked down through her sobs, ready to kick the rat away. Instead, what she saw floored her and took her breath away.

A tiny hand clutched her forearm, the first and middle fingers barely stroking her. She choked in a breath and looked to see the blue eyes were looking at her instead of through her. She smiled and pressed her forehead to his: she didn't know who this boy was, but he was precious to her and she'd never let anyone hurt him ever again.

"It's alright; I'm here now," she said softly and let the swirling world of screams and moans fade away, leaving only the two of them in the darkness together.

* * *

Seras opened her eyes, her senses still reeling from the horrid dream. She couldn't remember if she'd ever had that one before. She could still see the little boy in her mind's eye and tears pricked her vision.

Suddenly she sat straight up, taking the coffin lid off with her. It was one of those spine-tingling feelings where something was just _wrong_, and she needed to act quickly. Not even bothering to grab her robe, she slammed the door off its hinges in her hurry and sprinted down to the lowest levels. Her master needed her, and fast. She reached the bloody, rune encrusted door in no time and didn't break her stride, instead sliding to kick open the wooden door without any thought of the repercussions.

"Master!" At first glance, she thought the room was empty. Standing still, she looked around and saw the coffin lid rise and a black hound stuck his muzzle through the crack, woofing softly. Taking that as permission, she jogged over and gently opened the creaking lid, gazing inside at the shadows that spilled out and pooled around her bare feet. Scoffing quietly, she pushed her hands in the shadowy tendrils and brushed them aside, searching for her creator's face. She finally found it, blank and frowning with twin red trails of bloody tears running down the sides. She gazed sadly for a moment, realizing who the little boy was after all. The blank look was the same on both the faces, only with different eye colors.

She placed a cool hand on his bare chest for a full millisecond before he had it in a vice grip. His eyes snapped open and he hissed loudly before recognition dawned and he let her go. He blinked in pure confusion for a moment before his face twisted in a snarl.

"What are you doing here?" he practically roared, his voice echoing around the nearly empty room. Seras rocked back on her feet, her hackles rising at the frightening sound.

"You-you called me here, sir." He narrowed his eyes at her and she gulped before closing her eyes. When she opened them, a new determinedness showed deep within. "You called me with your dreams, and even after I woke up." She softened her voice and reached for him. "I can help you, Master. Please, just-"

"_No!_" He grabbed the front of her sleep-shirt and pulled her forward. "I never called you here. You never came here. Go back to your coffin and sleep!" Seras cowered, but grabbed both his hands in hers.

"If you try to force me out, I'm just going to sleep at the door! _You called me, _Master! Just admit it; you had a nightmare. I was there, remember?" Alucard jerked one hand away and backhanded her across the room. She stood, wavering slightly, and made her way back, kneeling once again by the coffin's side.

"Insolent child!" he yelled and Seras closed her eyes, not wanting to flinch if he hit her again. After a moment, she cracked open one eye to see him poised above her unmoving. She opened both eyes and straightened up, looking him in the face. He looked torn and weary, and she gently pushed him back into the coffin.

"It's alright. Sleep, my master," she cooed softly, treating him like a child who'd woken from a bad dream and couldn't calm down. And he was an overgrown child in his own way; perhaps not mentally, but more emotionally. He couldn't process emotion like others could; he just wasn't mature enough. _Whether he admits it or not, he needs me enough to call for me when he's afraid. He's afraid of being alone, just like me. So I'll just stay here. _She closed the coffin and curled up on the lid, the smooth wood feeling nice and cool underneath her skin. She opened her eyes blearily to look at the lettering beneath her cheek. _The bird of Hermes is my name_, she repeated to herself and to the man within in a soft, slow lullaby until she dropped off to sleep.

* * *

Alucard heard a thump close to his head and his eyes opened immediately. Was someone in his chambers? Branching out, he felt his childe's presence and opened the lid. She must have been sleeping on top of his coffin and rolled off, otherwise she wouldn't have made a sound as she was still sound asleep, a goofy smile written on her face. He glowered at her, wondering what a suitable punishment would be for defying his orders.

He was still almost… embarrassed that he'd called her unconsciously. She'd called him before; it compelled him to answer immediately, even if she was still asleep. He'd stayed by her until her soul calmed itself with his nearness. It was clear she'd been determined to do the same for him, even if she had no idea what it meant. He, however, knew exactly what it foretold of his little police girl. He made a face and reached down, brushing her bangs off her nose.

He'd known for the longest time that she loved him in some way. She certainly wasn't the first woman to fall in love with him, but she was the first to not do anything about it. She helped him in battle, and provided companionship when he felt benevolent, but she'd never forced herself on him (other than calling his soul to her side, but that was unintentional so he'd always let it slide). But until now, he'd always assumed it was in the way a student could grow to love a mentor, or a father-daughter sort of thing.

Yet, in the dream she'd been-_no, forget the dreams. They mean nothing to me. _He shook his head and considered the young woman on the floor again. Maybe he should wake her up by throwing her off the roof. Yes, that would work. Then, he'd break a few bones to help the lesson sink in.

Smiling cruelly, he climbed from his coffin and lifted the sleeping girl in his arms. She nestled against him and muttered something in her sleep. His smile faltered and he looked at her for a long moment before sighing and placing her in his coffin, shutting the lid. _Damn. She'd probably sleep through the pain anyway. _

* * *

"And that was "The Bonny Banks O' Loch Lomond", which celebrates over 200 years of tradition today. Next, your local weather." Anderson frowned at the loud voice. It didn't do anything for his pounding temples. _God in Heaven, my head! _

"Fuck, do I have a hangover?" he muttered into the pillow, muffling his voice for his own sake. To his dismay, his pillow vibrated with a chuckle and a voice echoed in his ear from somewhere above it.

"No, you've "not had a drop in over 50 years," or so you keep telling me." Anderson's eyes shot open and he lifted his head to see he'd made a rather impressive pillow from Integra's lap. He groaned at the sudden movement and opened his eyes to see a cup of coffee swimming before them. Taking it gratefully he took a deep drink, not caring that it scalded on the way down. His mind slowly began to clear as the headache pounded itself out of existence, and finally he was able to focus his eyes on something longer than two seconds before getting dizzy. As he sat silently, mental images from the night before slowly trickled into his mind.

Well, he'd made a right fool of himself, but that's what he got for being forgetful. Time and time again he'd tried to curb his bad habit of running out to battle before preparing fully. When you could summon divine weapons from white space, you didn't always have the best plan in mind for keeping up with belongings. He was always leaving behind his cellular, or his Bible, and now apparently essential beeswax. He'd held his own against the singing demon for quite a while, but now he remembered that as soon as he was about to succumb to the she-beast, Integra had swooped in like a pajama-clad avenging angel, even sacrificing her clothing to make sure he was alright. Not only that, she'd managed to chase him down and eventually drag him back to the hotel, a feat in itself when you compared how tiny she was next to his bulk. The last thing he clearly remembered was looking over as she walked out of the bathroom, using his shirt for a makeshift nightgown. After that, everything was a blurry haze of cool skin and muddled thoughts.

"What happened last night?" he finally gave in and asked. Integra snorted into her coffee and sat it down on the nightstand, turning to face him with the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Well, long story short- I saved your life and now we're engaged." It didn't get the spit-take reaction she'd hoped, but he did choke on his coffee and she ended up pounding him on the back. He managed to regain control of his own breathing and gawked at her wordlessly. She met his eyes, her own face quite serious. She wasn't sure what he was going to do; would he claim he was under the influence? Would he accept what he'd done?

She hoped he'd find some way to blow it all under the rug, but a tiny voice in the back of her mind insisted that she hadn't minded his arms being around her all night and that she might enjoy being married to him. She growled and told the little voice to keep its opinions to itself, only to be snidely reminded that marriage was in fact the best option for everyone. She snapped out of her introspection to see Anderson staring quietly at the ring on her thumb, which was quite visible around the Styrofoam cup of coffee she held.

"So we are," he said softly with an air of finality. He wasn't going to fight her about it? If Integra didn't know any better, she'd of said she'd brought home a Siren instead of the priest; surely he was going to make a big fuss about being married to a Protestant woman, much less the main rival of his superior!

"And you're okay with this?" she countered, waving the hand around so that the ring caught the light. Anderson groaned and rubbed his face, getting up out of bed and throwing the empty cup in the tiny wastebasket before heading slowly to the bathroom. Integra frowned after him before shaking her head. Turning back to the telly, she watched the rest of the morning news for any signs of Siren activity. When nothing in particular popped out at her, she turned off the set and lay back down. Closing her eyes, she dropped back off into a doze as the sounds of the shower lulled her senses into stupor.

A warm hand on her forehead woke her and she sat up slightly, unsure of what was going on. Anderson had one hand on her head and the other was holding the phone receiver. He gestured to her and she yawned, taking the phone from him and murmuring her greeting into the line.

"Pleasant dreams?" Walter's friendly voice echoed from the other side sardonically. She smiled despite herself: he always had asked her that whenever she'd woken him up as a child, frightened from monsters under the bed and shadowy images that seemed to creep around the house.

"As always," she answered wryly, brushing her hair out of the way to hold the receiver on her ear. "What's the news, Walter?"

"Yes sir." He resumed his formal air and began giving her a mission debriefing. "Yesterday at 7:00, I sent out the eligible troops to London to clear the city of any Sirens. While completing this mission, Alucard managed to gather some information from the Sirens' blood." Integra's mind jumped to the thick black ooze that now coated her nightgown.

"I doubt it was the most appetizing thing he'd ever eaten," she said. She almost felt a hint of pity, but part of her schooled the information away. She could always feed him Siren blood for a week or two if he misbehaved. That would fix him up nicely.

"I agree, but everyone has to take one for the team now and again. Anyway, we learned that the Sirens have been entering England not through the Thames, as we originally thought, but through the city of Liverpool."

"Liverpool?" Integra repeated, clutching the phone. Liverpool was a large city, well situated near the ocean. It would be nothing for Sirens to hide among the masses there. "What have you done about it?"

"Nothing, as of yet. We were waiting to hear your thoughts. You and I both know we can't send all our men to Liverpool. The public would get suspicious." Walter sounded uncertain. She knew he was hesitating to send either of the vampires without her permission and she understood why. If things got ugly, it would fall on her head.

"Listen, Walter," she said slowly, looking at Anderson who was torn between blatantly eavesdropping and pretending not to listen. "I'll have to call you back. Let me talk it over with Alexander; maybe the Catholics can spare a few scouts to place in the big port cities. I'll get in touch with you before tonight, alright?" Integra looked over to him, knowing that he could hear the older man on the other end of the line. Anderson gave her a half-shrug in return and she glowered for a moment before flashing him an evil smile.

"Of course, sir. Alexander, hmm? So you're both now on a first-name basis, I presume?"

"Naturally, Walter. Why would I not be on a first-name basis with my_ dear fiancée_? Bye!" She hung up the phone on the sputtering butler and laughed as Anderson let out a long string of curses that should never be falling from a godly man's lips. "That's what you get," she snapped.

"I really didn't know! I'm not Maxwell!" he shouted back. Integra shrugged and he gritted his teeth, his hands clenched on the table. "Don't know what I've gotten myself into," he muttered angrily, looking daggers at her. She crossed her legs and huffed.

"Well, if you are planning on marrying me you had best get used to it. I'm not going to lie down and let you walk all over me, just because we're husband and wife." She gestured to her pantsuit lying on top of her knapsack. "I do happen to wear pants too." Anderson gave her an incredulous look before turning around to address her angrily.

"Oh, no. You aren't going to think that just because you're used to being in charge-I'm the man in this relationship, and you are the woman. I make the rules," he argued.

"No, I don't think you do." Integra tensed for a fight; she could feel it brewing underneath their skin and she was looking forward to it. She half-worried that she enjoyed fighting too much, especially with the Catholic. It was even more entertaining than yelling at Alucard, because unlike the vampire Anderson was liable to get worked up and yell back rather than smile and disappear through a wall or the floor. Of course, that annoying voice in the back of her mind was right there to suggest that it was a bit of a turn-on to see him angry, but she managed to temporarily kick that voice out of her brain on its ass. She really needed to get rid of that.

"Listen here! I am the husband, I am the head of the household and you will be my equal, but still you will obey!" Anderson stood up and they squared off. "We can do it the easy way or the hard way, it's up to you." Integra tapped her shoe impatiently on the floor until he finished.

"Say what you want, but I'm a bit used to having my way. I'm not giving that up." Anderson's face turned a darker shade of red and he hissed as he took in a quick breath and tried to calm down. He took a step forward and she growled, raising her hand slightly. "Take one more step and-"

"Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth." He looked at her raised hand. "You hit me and I'll hit you back," he promised. Integra narrowed her eyes. Half of her wanted to take him up on that, and the other half was actually kind of shaken by how _big _he was. He could probably knock her through the wall if he wanted to. Still, she had to walk the walk, as it were. He took another, more calculating step closer and she reared up and slapped him without really thinking. She was actually just as surprised as he was as she watched her hand meet his cheek and the smack rang throughout the room. Granted, it hurt her hand much more than it hurt him, which was probably not at all although it left a nice red handprint. He touched his cheek lightly before grunting and, as promised he slapped her back. It wasn't half as hard as hers was, and it didn't even leave a mark although it did sting a bit.

They stayed still for a moment, each measuring the other before Integra went in for another hit, furious that the stupid man would _dare _lay a hand on her. She had half a mind to call Alucard here to have him shoot the blonde freak in the head a couple of times. She had half a mind to shoot him herself, now that she thought about it. He caught her hand mid-swing and held her without any effort. She felt like screaming and instead kicked out at him, not even thinking that she was in her bare feet and that it was going to hurt when it hit. Anderson rolled his eyes and kicked her other foot out from under her, making sure she hit the bed and not the floor. Somehow, she managed to take him down with her and they struggled for all of five seconds before Anderson had her pinned down, a bored look on his face.

"Easy way or the hard way," he repeated as she struggled to break free of his hold. She finally stilled and instead affixed the ugliest frown she could manage on her face. Anderson gave her one look before chuckling, unaffected. "Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly wash'd with dew." Integra blinked for a moment before the voice jumped back in. _Oh, he knows Shakespeare! _

"Are you implying that I'm a _shrew_?!" she shrieked, trying her best to maneuver her leg up enough to kick him and make sure that marry her or not, he'd never have children. He nodded with a grin.

"Well, you aren't in much of a place to argue anyway, are ya?" he reminded her, looking down at their bodies on the bed. Integra seized the opportunity to head-butt him, her forehead trying to push him off of her and failing miserably. He sighed in frustration and pinned her head to the bed as well, practically covering her. "You just don't learn, do you? Just give up, Integra!" A look of surprised crossed his face, as if he hadn't meant for her name to slip out.

"Never." They stared each other down, neither wanting to be the first to give up. To admit defeat would be to let the other have a higher standing, something neither of them wanted. "Face it, Alexander. We're both too stubborn to even move off this bed." Anderson didn't reply, and for the first time it dawned on her how close his face was… and how much of their bodies were actually touching… and how damn warm he was through the thin shirt. She felt her face coloring slightly and averted her eyes, not wanting to admit how affected their proximity was making her. The voice in her mind crowed self-righteously. _If you want him to get off you, do something about it! Or are you enjoying this too much? _

"Let me up." When he didn't move, she relaxed, letting his body fall closer to hers unintentionally. "_Please_ let me up." she finally conceded, not looking him in the face. The grip on her wrists relented and he moved to get off the bed. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket as he moved, dragging herself up to whisper in his ear. "This is far from over," she promised. She'd get revenge, and with a good helping of interest built on to what he was due. He chuckled and when he spoke it sounded as though he were excited by the prospect.

"I didn't expect anything less." He pushed her back to the bed and walked to leave, grabbing his cellphone as he passed the table. "I need to make that call to the Vatican, I suppose." He shut the door firmly behind himself, leaving Integra alone to get dressed. She crossed her arms and looked around the small room in irritation. What was she supposed to do now? Spend the rest of her life as a prolonged battle with a man she didn't-exactly-care about?

* * *

**Afterword:** This was long. Why was it so long? *cries* Oh, well. More next time! Bye Niiiii~


	10. Amintiri Rele

**Author's Note:** Has anyone else ever thought about how Anderson's nicknames are a mouthful? If you're a vampire, you don't have time to say **"It's Off-With-His-Head-Anderson!"** before you die. Personally, I like my own blunder-filled brain's opinion, which made me spout off "Pixie-Dust Anderson" once. (He was one of the Lost Boys, right?)

* * *

Seras flipped through the book Walter had given her. She had enjoyed reading the highlighted tales of sirens, but most of it was false, except for the bits that Walter had already told them about at the briefing. Now, she was indulging in fanciful tales of Celtic druids and fairies. Turning the page, she was greeted by a pretty blonde woman with the title "mermaid" glittering in embossed gold above her head. Smiling, she rolled her eyes at the highlighted pages beneath her hands. Surely mermaids and fairies weren't real. Maybe Walter was playing a trick on her or something with this book. Still, it was very old and Walter wasn't the type to bring a prank so far as to ruin a perfectly ancient book with a highlighter.

_Seras… __**Seras**__…. SERAS. _Seras looked around the room. Alucard called her, but she thought he had already turned in for the day. She focused on his room down below, but he wasn't in there. Looking in the ceiling and all over the walls, she shrugged and went back to her book, disregarding the disembodied voice. If he really wanted her, he knew where she was. She looked back down at the book to see two glowing eyes smack-dab in the middle of the pages, the voice growling playfully. She was so shocked, she could do nothing more than shriek like a banshee before her mind caught up and she realized that it was her master. Dark chuckles filled the room and she frowned as the eyes vanished and Alucard phased through her mattress to join her on the bed. She tapped his head lightly with the book when he bent over to accommodate for the lack of space where she hadn't raised the lid to her bed all the way.

"Master, you're so mean sometimes. Can't you quit your teasing for one night?" she grumbled as she moved over to give him more room. He spread out, crowding her into one side of the bed and she gritted her teeth and buried her nose in the book, determined to not let him see any sign of irritation on her part.

"I might; but it's daytime now, not nighttime. And yet my dear fledgling is foregoing her beauty sleep to read. Such a little scholar, you are." He seemed just as determined as she was to make her blow a fuse as he pressed every button she had. He began to fiddle with a stray thread on her nightgown, tapping his foot loudly against the side of the coffin and looking around her arm to see what she read.

Taking a deep breath, Seras gave in and let him worm an arm around her, laying her head on his shoulder and lifting the book up so that he could see as well. He was apparently planning on staying around for a while judging by the lack of outerwear and even his vest, leaving him only in his undershirt and pants, sans boots. For Alucard, that meant two things: 1-he couldn't sleep because of any number of factors ranging from a nightmare that he'd never admit to having to thoughts that wouldn't settle; or 2- he was bored and not ready for bed yet, so he decided to get some entertainment from her. By his lack of clothing and shoes, she opted for number one.

"Are there really mermaids out there?" she asked him. If anyone had seen a mermaid, it would have been him. He probably was the first one to kill a mermaid, too. He gave a snort at her thoughts and pulled her closer unconsciously in his effort to see the page.

"I haven't, actually. But I know that they're out there, because others I've spoken to have. In fact, a Nereid told me that she'd met quite a few. They are some of the better creatures in the world. They keep to themselves and hardly come out of the ocean." Alucard yawned, covering it with his arm.

"That's what it says here, too," Seras said as she scanned the highlighted portion. "What's a Nereid?"

"Have you ever heard any of the Greek's tales? Calypso is a Nereid," he answered softly. "They are the opposite of Sirens, beautiful and wise. They help those they deem worthy of assistance. I've met three in my existence." Seras turned to him in interest.

"What were their names? Did you meet Calypso?" she asked. She'd heard the story of Odysseus in her schoolchild days, and had always felt terrible for Calypso's fated relationship with the hero of the story. Of course Odysseus must find a way back to his beloved Penelope eventually-he'd never be allowed to stay on an island with a beautiful goddess, unable to leave.

"No, my inquisitive little one. Their names were Dione, Thaleia, and Maera. Each helped me in a different way. Maera even kept me from being shipwrecked."

"Wow." Seras smiled as she imagined what beautiful creatures they must have been, if they were opposites of hideous Sirens. "We could use the help now, huh?" She turned the page away from the mermaids to glance at the woman depicted in a beautiful Oriental gown. "Yuki-onna…" she murmured. Alucard took one look at the picture and let out a barking laugh.

"She looks nothing like that. She's a vampire, but she takes the form of a small child. Her name is Yuki, though. They have that right." He closed his eyes and Seras let out a yawn of her own. It was getting rather late in the morning.

"Master? Aren't you going back to your room? I think I want to go to bed now." She placed the book on her nightstand and grabbed the remote that worked the lid to her bed. Alucard made no move to get up, instead curling his legs slightly and getting more comfortable.

"Hmm? You should read if that's what you want. I was only teasing about the beauty sleep. You don't need it," he dismissed with another yawn. Seras frowned and nudged his feet out of the way before lying back down and hitting the remote's button. She didn't mind it if he stayed and he knew it, so why did he have to beat around the bush?

If he wanted to sleep with her today, he could just say it. It's not like they hadn't done so before a thousand times when Seras had been having horrible nightmares about Incognito and the fall of the Tower of London. She had ran down to her Master's coffin and he'd (albeit hesitantly and with lots of arguing and pleading) allowed her to curl up and gain some small margin of comfort from his stiff form in her rest. She was pretty sure he came to lay with her for a while whenever he had nightmares as well, but he never stayed until morning and she never woke up fully enough to figure out if it was real or a dream.

He said nothing to answer her unspoken questions as she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her mind already becoming more sluggish in the dim light and shared warmth. She agreed with her previous thoughts that humans could never understand the nature of what she shared with the man beside her-if any of the soldiers knew that she shared her coffin she'd be the talk of the town. As it was, only Walter knew and he was always the perfect picture of confidentiality.

"Master?" she asked sleepily. When he grunted she continued. "Did you have a bad dream today?" He humphed and shifted around against the wall of the coffin, his back in the corner where the wall met the mattress.

"I don't have bad dreams, Seras. I am not a child." She opened one eye, thankful for her enhanced vision. His face was tense and he had his eyes screwed shut. _Bull shit. _

"And here I thought you valued honesty," she jibbed, wrapping both her arms around one of his to let him know she was only teasing. He sniffed haughtily.

"I abhor liars, but I'm not lying. I don't have any bad dreams." He paused for a moment. "I have bad memories."

* * *

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Integra looked around at the room, making sure for the millionth time that they hadn't forgotten anything in their hurried packing. She was dressed in her last clean outfit, her knapsack slug on her back. Anderson frowned and rolled his eyes, motioning her over to the center of the room.

"It worked in London; it will work here." He noticed her examination of the room and growled under his breath. "We've already checked everywhere. It's all in your bag, and if it's not it's a simple matter of coming back for it." Integra arched a brow, but joined him under the cheap lighting.

"So says the man who'd leave behind his own head if it wasn't screwed onto his shoulders," she noted she looked him over before hopping up onto his back, looping her arms over his shoulders. "Come on, let's get this over with so we can make that reservation in Liverpool," she muttered in his ear. She wasn't being truthful-she was actually just excited to get to travel by- page? -without being loopy and missing the experience. Anderson nodded his assent and reached deep into his jacket, pulling out a worn bible. Before she could rein it in, she let out a small sound of awe. _Can he really just hide anything in there? Or is it some sort of… holy magic-mumbo-jumbo? _ She had the sudden urge to crawl in there and see if she fell down a rabbit-hole or a wardrobe or something.

"Hold on tight now. I don't want to have to go looking for your body parts if you happen to slip." She had all of a millisecond to wonder if he was joking before the bible flipped open of its own accord and the fluttering of pages filled her ears. It sounded like thousands upon thousands of flapping wings accosting her eardrums and she tightened her hold on the man who was now her only anchor to reality. It all became too much and she closed her eyes to clear the dizziness from her mind before gravity righted itself and the fluttering subsided , only to be replaced by bustling city noises. She opened her eyes cautiously to see that they had landed in an alleyway outside of the hotel they'd made reservations at. She looked up at the towering building before sighing, slumping against his shoulder. That wasn't as fun as she imagined it was. He shook his shoulders slightly, trying to get her to let go of her death-grip on his shoulders. "Come on; we're here now. Let's check in, right?"

"Right." Integra slid off his back and stumbled slightly, still shaken from the ride. Anderson looked back and shook his head before grabbing her arm and leading her out to the front doors.

* * *

**Afterword:** Another short chapter. Boo, Juju! The people want to see more! *sobs and continues to work on homework* Trust me, I'd rather be writing for you guys than determining the shift in a supply curve as related to free tickets to see The Tonight Show.


	11. Liverpool

**Author's Note:** I really don't have anything against people of a homosexual tendency! Please don't think that just because I write prejudice into a story means that I truly believe it! (*-* ) Juju loves all kinds. She just hopes that they love her in some small way too.

* * *

Clamor. It was pure clamor all around as people ran to and fro. They pushed past him in their hurry to escape their inevitable fate, no longer caring that they dared to touch their ruler. Outside, the sounds of breaking walls reached his ears, but he no longer cared. He only waited for the signal that announced that all was ready for him to leave. Then, once everything was alright and he was in control again, he'd make sure that that bastard he once claimed as family paid dearly for what he was doing. That gay freak would probably enjoy his impalement a little too much, no matter what side it came from.

"No! I can't take this anymore!" He looked towards the balcony to see the woman balancing precariously on its edge and felt torn. Should he stop her? Or let her decide her own fate? She turned to him, her dark hair whipping around her face in the wind. "I will be in charge of my own death!" He said nothing; if she couldn't trust her own husband to protect her, it was better that she died. He had no room in his life for people who couldn't put faith in him, even if he'd never let them down before. She stood for a moment longer, her eyes searching his before she smiled. "I never loved you, you know."

"I know." And he did. She hadn't cared about anyone other than herself. If she had, she'd of stayed by his side instead of choosing this. At his confirmation she nodded almost sadly, as if she felt there was some unresolved regret between them. Her face grew more determined than he'd ever seen it before, and she seemed to have something else to say but wasn't sure how to phrase it. Finally, she bowed slightly, hardly thrown off balance despite the winds that always seemed to hang over the mountain fortress.

"Good luck. I'd say that God be with you, but He won't be with either of us now." She looked to the Heavens, her mouth moving in a soft prayer. She took a step back, the action throwing her off-kilter. "We'll meet again in Hell, my husband." And with that, she disappeared and he heard the hollow thuds as her body bounced down the mountain and into the river with a splash.

* * *

Alucard woke, disoriented and his muscles tensed involuntarily until he caught the scent all around him. Relaxing, he looked over to see his fledgling was fast asleep, her body showing all the signs of being freshly dead. He knew that if he listened, he'd hear neither a heartbeat nor a breath escape her. Even her eyes showed no signs of dreaming, although from the soft, steady waves he felt through their bond he knew she _was _dreaming something peaceful. Her brainwaves calmed him and he found himself getting drowsy, both from her cool touch on his arm and from the stuffiness of the coffin.

That memory, though. He hadn't thought about that day in years. Shifting around to lay his chin on Seras' head, he frowned as the replay of his dream-memory ran through his mind again and his arm flexed against hers. The action woke Seras unintentionally and she stirred, moaning slightly.

"Whazza matter?" she mumbled in confusion, most likely trying to figure out why he was up so early in the day. "Everything okay?"

"Sleep, Seras. Don't trouble yourself," he whispered back, trying not to hurt her ears from his booming voice echoing around the tiny space. She sighed and turned over onto her stomach, her head using his forearm as a pillow. She promptly fell back asleep, her breathing stopping and her brainwaves slowing back to the soft rhythm that was seemed so familiar to him, as if he'd known her forever instead of just over a year. He closed his eyes too, willing his mind to stop thinking so that he wouldn't be tired come nightfall. After what felt like an eternity, he gave up and stared at the wood of the coffin lid, letting the delta waves wash over him and calm him. However, his thoughts kept jumping back to the last sight of his human wife.

Throwing herself off the wall of Poenari. That was the ultimate show of selfishness and cowardice. He felt his face twist in disgust and looked back at the girl sleeping on his arm. That's why he enjoyed being around Seras more. She wouldn't have thrown herself to her death; no, she would have stayed to fight, defending him to the death. A heroine's death. She was worthy of being called Queen, where the others, even Lucy and Mina both, had failed him.

Was it fitting that she wasn't the sort of girl he would have made a vampire? Perhaps. He'd never tried for the truly innocent ones before. Lucy had knowledge of carnal doings, no matter if she'd admitted it or not. And Mina-she was married. But this little unspoiled thing… she was more of a woman than all those before combined. And that's why he waited for her. An apple only tastes its best when you wait for the right moment to pluck it from the tree. He'd waited over 500 years for a bride worthy of himself. He could wait another 500, if that's what it took for the police girl to fulfill her full potential.

A loud knocking on the lid of the coffin had him scowling and wincing. Seras groaned and covered her ears at the sudden noise. After a moment, the knocking subsided and Walter's panicked voice came through the wood.

"Miss Victoria, I need you and Alucard to come out immediately." The butler sounded astonished, uneasy, and concerned all at the same time. Seras sighed, stretching in the cramped space before opening the lid. Light immediately flooded the space and both vampires squinted against the unusual brightness of the basement.

"Cor, Walter! It's still daylight, what's wrong?" Seras rubbed her eyes hard and blinked up at him. Alucard pushed an arm over his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"Walter, this damn well better be important. You know I don't like waking during the day." Not that he'd been asleep, but that was better than being blinded by daylight and the sun-warmed air always made him sluggish. Less reaction time wasn't a good thing in his profession. The butler bowed and wrung his hands.

"Well, I beg your pardon but I've just gotten off the phone with Sir Integra. And she's to be married." Seras squealed as Alucard shot straight up in the coffin, knocking her over the rim and out onto the floor in the process. She rubbed her forehead and worked on righting herself, pulling up on Walter's apron to try and stand. She let out a loud yawn.

"That's great," she said sleepily. "But couldn't this have waited a few hours, Walter? I'm tired." She scratched her head and yawned again. Alucard looked up at the old man, his eyes flashing.

"She is getting married… to whom? Last time I checked, she'd told me that there was no one in the entire country worthy of her hand," he said with a frown. Walter cringed and looked around the room like he was just now second-guessing his reason for being here. Well, too late now. Seras glared at Alucard, mouthing "Donny-downer" behind Walter's back and pointing a finger at him threateningly. He arched a brow; bride or no, she really was getting to be a bit too uppity for her own good. He'd have to remember to take her down a notch.

"Ah… ahem." Walter looked over at Seras pleadingly, but the blonde just shrugged and tilted her head at him, puzzled. Alucard looked between the two, realizing that Walter wanted her to protect him just in case. In case of what? "It just happens to be someone we all know," he hinted. Alucard forced back his disapproval. He hated when people decided to beat around the bush instead of just coming out and admitting their purposes. He'd killed his own subjects for that very reason. It took away from his patience.

"Are you going to make us guess?" Seras teased. "Alright, but I have you know I'm better at this with a full night's sleep." Walter gave her a "quit-being-ditzy" look and swallowed before spitting it out.

"It's Paladin Alexander Anderson." The room was deathly quiet for a long moment before a chunk of Seras' coffin came apart in Alucard's fist as he clenched his hands together, a tic showing up in his eye.

"_**What?!**__" _he roared and Walter covered his ears. Seras trembled and held a hand to her throat, looking in fright between Walter and her master, who was shaking with rage. She watched his hair elongate and spill over the rim of the coffin and along the ground, his body fading with the power that rippled around him. "I will _murder_ that Judas Priest! He's taken advantage of my master, and now they must be married to cover it up? I'll stick him up in the town square, left to rot for weeks!"

"I don't think it's quite like that, Alucard," Walter began, but backed up when the shadows pooled around the stonework and the vampire stood, his face a distorted mask of wrath. Seras gasped, but seemed to carry no self-preservation as she ran to her sire in her pajamas. "I mean she called me on the phone and-"

"What else would it be?" Alucard snarled and Walter bowed in submission. He didn't know how to answer that, and instead looked over to the blonde: his last resort. Seras jumped to her master's side and waved her hands around in a calming motion.

"Don't worry Master. Perhaps it was Sir Integra's idea of a joke. Ahaha…" she laughed weakly and jumped when she realized he was preparing to leave. "Wait! Er-let me go with you!" _Sir Integra's going to kill me. I'm supposed to keep hi m and Anderson apart! _

"Please don't let him do anything rash, Miss Victoria!" he called as she latched onto Alucard's arm and the shadows swirled around to consume them both. "_Please_!" Seras nodded, or at least he thought she did; with the wavering air around the pair it was hard to tell. They disappeared in a flash of darkness, leaving the aged man alone in the basement with an empty coffin and a heavy heart, praying to God above that the damage would be minimal.

* * *

"I'm not throwing my limited funds to feed your addiction!" Anderson crossed his arms and growled as the blonde witch in front of him danced around angrily, her glasses almost falling off her nose.

"And I'm telling _you; _I'd be much easier to live with if you'd let me smoke!" Integra huffed and set her shoulders as the priest opened his mouth to retaliate. "You were willing in Ireland to pay for them," she argued. Anderson shook his head.

"That's what almost got me killed! Your cigars got us into this mess in the first place. Now Maxwell is tearing apart the Vatican because they granted my request to marry you, which was a surprise in itself." Integra stopped mid-shout; she hadn't heard that the papi-_Catholics _had given her companion the "A-Okay".

"Oh? Why would they be so eager?" Anderson shrugged, but before he could let out two words they both jumped a mile as the door to their room was kicked in. Integra looked around Anderson-who she was now using as a shield of sorts- and saw a livid Alucard and a sheepish Seras, the latter clothed in nothing but a nightgown. Seras giggled nervously and waved at the pair inside the room.

"Top o' the afternoon, I suppose. I heard about-well, congratulations," she said lamely, trying desperately to grab ahold of Alucard's sleeve to keep him out of the room. She failed and the vampire stomped in, his expression furious as he singled out the paladin.

"I'm killing you this time, Judas Priest," he said with cold authority. Anderson chuckled darkly, his hands already balled into fists. Integra ran over to slap Seras, who ricocheted in surprise and clutched her cheek with a pout.

"What did I tell you about _not _bringing Alucard?!" Integra hissed and looked over to the two freakishly tall men sizing each other up. Alucard growled and reared back, only to have Seras flail and run, jumping like a basketball player to catch his arm and missing. He caught Anderson in the chin, snapping the man's neck up with a sickening crunch. Anderson cracked his head back into place with one hand, the other coming up to return the favor with a swift punch to the vampire's stomach. Alucard gagged slightly and backed up a full pace, reaching for his gun and holding his gut. Seras paused for a fraction of a second and then hissed like a cat and ran at the priest with arms outstretched, all fear forgotten as she tried to protect her creator when the telltale glint of bayonets glittered in Anderson's sleeves.

"Seras! _Alexander_!" Integra watched the chaos unfold helplessly as Anderson caught Seras mid-jump, his arm moving almost too fast for her eyes as he caught the Draculina in the stomach as well, and Integra heard the poor girl's arm snap with the pressure that was put on it as she rocked back. Seras could only gasp in pain, her breath ending in a high-pitched whimper as she hit the floor. Alucard's head shot up, and he took one look in his fledgling's direction before a low growl escaped his throat. He lunged for the paladin, his eyes showing deadly intent and Integra realized that he was going for the kill, angered beyond words not for Integra's sake, but for Seras'. She broke into a run herself, determined to reach them before any more lasting damage could be done. "Alucard! Do _not_ punch him!" she ordered fiercely.

"With pleasure, Master!" he howled in delight, his arm jerking up to shoot blindly at the still-standing man. He realized his mistake a moment later, his eyes seeing Integra run up to grab Anderson's arm. Anderson looked over at her; Seras' eyes grew wide as she clutched her broken arm, Alucard made a move forward and his shadows curled along the ground: it all happened in slow motion as Integra saw the gun flash and the bullet whistled in the air on its way across the room. Then the room spun as she was pushed out of the way, the bullet hitting another home and Anderson grunted in pain.

Integra lay on the floor and looked up at him; his face was contorted in agony and the bullet plinked on the ground, bent and smashed as Anderson's body knitted itself back together slowly. Alucard reached the pair, his face still bearing signs of anger. Seeing that she was alright, he turned tail and knelt a half-second later at Seras' side, looking over her wounds. Integra reached out for his mind, startled at the horrid vengeance that bubbled within at the sight of the police girl's broken arm and bruised stomach. She had no idea that he truly felt so protectively of the woman. But there was a time to think of that, and that time wasn't right now. She touched Anderson's shoulder gently, making sure his body was finished before backhanding him. He didn't even flinch; he just stared down at her crossly as his muscles rippled with the aftereffects of the regeneration.

"You bloody idiot!" she snarled. "What the hell was that? Don't go attacking my men!" A second passed and she raised herself up to look at his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, you miserable harpy. And in case you didn't notice, your _man_ attacked me first! I was protecting myself from a tag-team match!" Anderson let her up and rotated his shoulder, making sure it had healed properly. Across the room, Alucard's shadows diminished and Seras looked at her restored arm in awe, flexing it and smiling gratefully up at her master.

"Just shut up. I'll deal with Alucard." Integra scrambled to her feet, fixing her rumpled clothing before swinging a kick at Alucard's head. He looked up at her in irritation.

"He attacked _my_ Seras. I'm not going to let him live now," the vampire spat and Integra fought the urge to shove his face into the carpet with her boot.

"You have some gall kicking the door down and attacking people. Not only that, but you could have killed me, servant!" Seras looked up meekly at her, cowering away as Integra turned her icy eyes. "And you! I told you specifically not to let him come at any time, and you not only disobeyed, but you attacked as well!"

"But-but Sir Integra, he'd hit Master in the-"

"I don't care if he hit him into next week! You've got orders, Captain!" Seras bowed her head and looked as though she wanted to disappear into the carpet forever. Alucard huffed, still glaring daggers at the priest in the corner. "Alucard, I forbid you from fighting Alexander Anderson again without my specific permission." The vampire jumped up, his eyes burning crimson against his messy black hair.

"No! I told you-the priest doesn't live beyond today! No one attacks my-"

"Keep your fat head shut, vampire!" Integra grabbed the gloved hand and made towards the bathroom door. "You and I are about to have a little heart-to-heart, it seems. Seras, stay here because your turn's next." Seras raised a hand feebly before the door slammed shut, leaving her alone with the man who'd just broken her arm.

She took one frightened glance at him before running over to sit on the far bed, her hands in her lap and her eyes jumping around the room restlessly. Anderson smirked before walking over to the other bed and sitting on it, facing her and mimicking her posture. She licked her lips before gulping and closing her eyes. When she opened them, a new strength burned deep inside and she squared her shoulders. She no longer looked like a frightened mouse in a cage; she was now a fierce tiger, unleashed and on the prowl.

"You aren't planning on hurting Sir Integra, are you? I mean hurting her emotionally-getting married and attached to you and then you running off and cheating or… or something. I'm not going to stand by and watch you break her heart." Her voice shook, but the resolve behind it more than made up for her fear. Anderson chuckled and shook his head.

"Nay, little monster. I don't plan on hurting your dear master's owner. She and I have an agreement to a marriage of convenience of sorts, you see. And Catholics aren't like you filthy heathens-we intend to stay married for life, especially as high up in the Church as Section XIII's members are."

"You better not, because if you do-well, Master isn't the one you need to worry about then. I'll kill you myself." Seras' voice was pure steel; it was clear she held a great deal of regard for the woman, even if she was scared of the authority. It was quiet in the room for a moment, the muffled sounds of Integra's fierce words and Alucard's protests leaking through the door.

"If that happens, I'll slay myself. I'm not one to mistreat a lady, not anymore." Seras looked up to see the solidity of his words etched into his face and nodded. "Besides, you monsters are the type to do things like that, not me."

"I'm not a monster," she countered. Anderson shrugged dismissively and met her gaze. Green eyes searched crimson for something, and seemed to come up blank. "What?"

"Do you have any idea what that monster intends for you?" Seras looked over at the bathroom door, following his gaze. She shook her head and looked back in concern.

"What do you mean? I'm guessing that you mean Master, not Sir Integra?"

"Aye, Draculina. The Hellsing isn't a monster, although she acts that way sometimes." Seras folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to explain. He never got the chance, though, as a fuming-though slightly subdued- Alucard stalked out of the bathroom and took a place beside Seras on the bed. Integra poked her head through the door like it was a waiting room.

"If you can't talk civilly, don't even look at him. That means you too, Alexander." She commanded. "I swear, it's like babysitting a bunch of kindergarteners. Seras, get your ass in here now." Seras looked over at Alucard helplessly, but he was too busy growling under his breath at the priest to notice her silent cry. She sighed and picked herself up off the bed, following the trail of light into the bathroom where the door shut, more quietly this time.

The two men met each other in a silent face-off, each refusing to look away and trying to think of something to get under the other's skin with. Finally Anderson crossed his legs and leaned on his knee, a common position for him when he heard Confession.

"So, when are you planning on telling the wee Draculina what you plan on making of her?" he asked casually. Alucard gave him a sharp-toothed grin and crossed his own legs, but didn't lean down.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Priest." Anderson laced his fingers together in front of his face, calling on whatever patience he had left today.

"Don't play with me, vampire. I've destroyed entire covens of you monsters with my bare hands; vampires are notoriously selfish creatures." Alucard nodded regally.

"Thank you," he sneered. "It's so nice that someone finally noticed. We've been trying so hard to change our image over the last thousand years, it seems." Anderson breathed deeply and continued.

"As I was saying, vampires are selfish. There's no way they go so far to protect their own kind when injured. Not only that, they hardly ever attack for revenge over another of their kind being in pain. Unless…" He waited for the vampire to finish, but Alucard simply glared at him over the rim of his sunglasses.

"Go ahead; finish what you started. Unless?"

"Unless they're mated, of course. Naturally, they feel enough towards their spouse to attack from anger. But you and the Draculina-"

"Are not normal vampires," Alucard cut in. "We don't follow the same rules as the lesser of our kind. We have no need for the protection of a group. We are singular; walking alone. I don't expect or even think that you could understand our way."

"And yet you keep her by your side and refuse to force her to drink and become free of you? It's clear to both of us that she's more than ready to become lone." Anderson tilted his head back and studied the dark being sitting across from him. "Don't tell me you've become too fond of her to let her go. That's not your way."

"I am _not _fond of her!" he snapped. Anderson laughed deeply, leaning forward even more to meet the crimson gaze head-on.

"No, it's gone much deeper than that, hasn't it. Are you as dependent on her as she is of you? It's clear to see that she cares very deeply for you."

"I don't have to explain my reasons to anyone, much less a half-bit priest like you." Alucard's eyes flashed with hate before he blinked slowly, adopting a neutral expression.

"Aye, so defensive…" Anderson smiled as the door opened and the two blondes walked out, both seemingly calm. A childish part of him laughed at getting the last word in; a one-up on his nemesis. Seras bounded to her Master's side, her cheerful mood having returned sometime in the bathroom.

"Master, Master! Please, oh please will you let me come back for Sir Integra's wedding! It's not going to be very big, and you don't have to stay, but I want to be there! I love weddings!" Alucard looked up petulantly at the bouncing girl standing practically on top of him and snapped his teeth.

"What business do you have to come back? I'm not your chauffeur," he said testily. Seras gave him a sullen look before bending under his hat to whisper something in his ear. He listened, his eyes lighting up slightly before he pulled back. "Honestly. Our mission is to find and eliminate the Sirens in Liverpool, Police Girl. Not do a-" He glanced at Integra when Seras sharply smacked his shoulder. "Plan surprises."

"Yes, our mission is to destroy Sirens, not travel around kicking down doors and picking fights, but you got to do that."

"We'll see." He stood, pushing his hat back down onto his head from where she'd upset it. "If that's everything, my master?"

"Yes, get the hell out of here. And fix that door on your way!" Integra looked as though she were about to cry or jump out the window, whichever one was easier. Alucard smirked and his shadows shot out to slide the door back into place as he left, pushing a chattering Seras out in front of him. The sudden silence reigned in and Integra collapsed on the bed, rubbing her temples. "God help me."

"You've got quite a handful with those two," Anderson agreed and she glared at him around her fingers.

"Don't act like you're innocent. You didn't have to break her fucking arm!" She winced at the sound of her own voice. "You should have known Alucard would have killed you for it."

"So you know then? About them?" Integra sighed and blinked at the ceiling before turning off the bedside lamp and letting the daylight filter in from behind the curtains.

"Of course I know. I'm a vampire expert, after all. It's my job to know, and besides these things don't happen in my house without me getting an idea about it. And Alucard's already as good as told me when he brought her home that she was going to be a Queen one day."

"And you're okay with that? Even with what it means for the girl?" Anderson asked incredulously. Integra smiled and shook her head.

"You don't understand it like I do. Whatever the hell they have between them-it's like nothing I've ever seen. Seras can handle it, too. Alucard bends over backwards for her to get her way. All that arguing is just a cover-up. I don't think he's ever really denied her anything if it was in his power to get it for her. She'll be at that wedding, you mark my words. I don't think she even realizes how much influence she holds with him. It's astounding."

"Astounding," Anderson echoed. "It's hard to imagine monsters having that depth of feeling. They're usually so cold."

"The difference between your monsters and my vampires is simple, once you figure it out." Her eyes were closed, but she felt the bed sag as Anderson sat somewhere, supposedly near her waist. She could almost feel the curiosity rolling off him. She opened one eye and grinned-a real smile, not her usual smug grins that she flashed when she knew she was going to get her way. "They never forgot their humanity. It doesn't matter if they wanted to or not. Even Alucard still remembers his human life and the lessons it taught him."

"And so you're saying that by remembering that life, they can remember and access those feelings as well." He rubbed his stubble thoughtfully. "That's one interesting theory. I'll stack it up there with advanced vampire minds." Integra frowned until she saw the good-humored look he was sending her. Rolling her eyes, she sat up and looked carefully at the hole in his shirt where the bullet had passed through. She couldn't see his skin thorough the layers of clothing. She touched it and he winced only slightly, though if it was pain she couldn't tell. "Are you sure that the bullet didn't hurt you bad?" she felt her cheeks warm and cursed her own silliness. "Thank you, by the way. I could have died, if it weren't for you." He only grunted in response, and she pressed around his shoulder again, prompting him to move away. "You are hurt," she accused quietly.

"No, it's just the bone. It'll take longer to repair than any o' the muscles. I'm fine." She made a move and he jerked back. "Quit touching it! It's sore."

"Let me look." When he didn't move, she sighed and reached around his shoulders to pull of his jacket. He protested and she pushed his chin around to make him look at her. "Let me see your shoulder. I'm not going to hurt it; I just want to make sure it's going to be alright." He gave her a mean look, but began to take off his jacket. She helped him get it over his shoulder, followed by his other garments until all that was left was the undershirt, which was clearly stained with a good amount of blood. Other faded spots told of similar mishaps. She pushed the soggy shirt up his back carefully and took a good look at the wound, reaching over with her free hand to turn the lamp back on for more lighting.

His back was stained with drying blood, the hole covered in fresh, paper thin skin. Holding her hand over the wound, she could feel he vibrations of his body as it worked to get the wound filled. It made sense that it would take a while; not even labs could build full working body parts in an hour. She sighed as she felt the immense heat pouring off of his shoulder, laying her hand carefully away from the wound before pressing slightly on the bone. "Does this hurt?"

"A little," he said through gritted teeth, his knuckles white as he clutched his knees. She sighed and released him.

"Hold still; I'm getting something to clean all this blood off with." He felt the bed move as she hopped off and went to grab a washcloth. He relaxed, allowing himself to breath. It hurt a little more than he let on, that was true; it was her cool hands soothing his back that made him stiff as a board, trying not to let her show what she was doing to him. It was the closest thing to torture he'd ever been to; a part of him begged him to let go and forget about duty and religion- it wanted to just throw her on the bed and make her scream. The other, more godly side reprimanded this testosterone-fueled voice that she was supposed to be nothing more than his wife, and that this marriage was one that benefited both parties, nothing more.

Still, she was being so gentle with him-he could even see that she was worried about his safety. No, she was only grateful that he had shielded her from the bullet and was repaying her thanks with a kind gesture. Or was it that she cared more than she showed, but was afraid he didn't feel the same? Even so, was that how he felt? Should he talk to her about it? He groaned softly and rubbed his forehead. This was getting too involved for him; in all honesty he'd brought it upon himself by asking her to marry him-but he was crazy at the time, right? No, that's wrong. If he was crazy, he'd have not remembered the entire thing at all. But he did, and he knew what he was doing at the time, too. He even remembered the feel of her skin beneath his fingers and her soft gasp when he passed his hand across her bare shoulder… _the spirit is willing, but the body is weak. _

The cold cloth on his back made him jerk and he felt her slender hand on his other shoulder, holding him still while she methodically cleaned the blood from his back. She murmured something noncommittal as she slid the cloth down his back, her hands feeling as though she were touching everywhere at once and making his skin crawl.

"There, that should do it." He felt her breath barely brush his shoulder and turned without thinking to look at her. She glanced up at him, his heated glare catching her by surprise. She opened her mouth slightly and made a questioning sound, looking from one eye to the other as her cheeks began to glow. "I wasn't too rough, was I? Is that what it was?" He couldn't help himself sliding his gaze away from her face, he traveled down her body and back again, reaching her face in time to see that it had turned fully red and she had cast her eyes down to his stomach where she was watching his muscles with a sort of fascination as he breathed. The room oozed tension as they watched each other until finally Anderson turned away, intent on finding some escape be it the city or just going downstairs to the lobby to breathe.

She caught him by the wrist, asking something insignificant and he no longer had control over himself. Twisting out of her grasp, he pinned her to the bed, watching her eyes widen and the speech catch in her throat. She twisted under him in panic, each move singing to his baser urges and still he fought-he'd fought for decades against this very thing, but it was so close now that could practically taste it between them in the air. He could see how the vampire couldn't deny that blonde fledgling of his; if she made _him _feel even a fraction of the need he felt now, he wouldn't have batted an eye at the ancient being falling on his knees in front of her police boots.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, a part of him disgusted at how tortured he sounded. Her pupils dilated slightly at his tone and she pulled back, her eyes catching his. They both breathed heavily and he saw mingled confusion and lust in her icy depths and closed his eyes, blocking out the sight. Her hand came up to brush non-existent hair behind his ear and he couldn't stop the growl that escaped him.

"I'm sorry," she proclaimed softly, her voice unsure. It wasn't her fault, but he couldn't help but blame her for his own weakness. He opened his eyes and tried to reclaim some of his composure, only to see her watching him pensively. Suddenly, the shame of what he'd admitted bore down on him and he found he couldn't meet her eyes, instead focusing on the way her hair spilled onto the neatly made coverlet and made patterns.

"I am weak." The words tumbled from his mouth before he could snatch them. She didn't scoff or laugh at his confession, although he'd expected her to. She instead petted his hair like a dog, her eyes understanding.

"We all are, in some way." She leaned forward to speak in his ear. "Don't think that it gives you free right to jump me whenever you feel like it, just because we're engaged." Her voice was mischievous, and between that and her hand running through his hair rhythmically it took all he had not to pin her back down again. "Now, how about those cigars?" He couldn't stop the grin that flickered briefly across his face. Always with the addictions; she just wasn't going to give up, was she?

"Perhaps in exchange for something from you?" he teased. He hadn't been lying when he said he was low on funds, and those cigars weren't cheap. She could cough up the cash, or get her vampire to deliver it to her anyway. She frowned before an evil glint lit up her eyes and she leaned forward to kiss his cheek briefly, her cool lips doing nothing to stop the fire in his face as he froze.

"Please?" she whispered against his skin, making a restrained tremble work its way down his spine. Blessed God above, but she was good. _Manipulative little_-he stood quickly, ignoring her victorious leer as he picked his shirt up and made his way down to the city streets. _If she's like this now, what is it going to be like when we're married?_

* * *

People gawked as the tall, ebony-haired businessman slinked his way down the street. He was missing his suit coat only to see it moments later on a businesswoman who was running a few steps behind him, clutching the coat around her shoulders against the night air and wobbling only slightly on her high heels. They seemed to be together, dressed similarly with matching glasses, the only differences being his bright orange lenses where hers were dark. They seemed ethereal, sliding through the night as though they owned the streets.

Seras looked behind her at the people who were stopped in their tracks, mouths agape as they watched her and Alucard walk down to the main district. She knew that they had dressed nicely to blend in with the crowds, but there was no need to stare, was there?

"Master," she panted as she tried to match his long strides. "What's with them?"

"They're easily manipulated by our looks, my dear. And I see why; you look quite the figure in that skirt, though I probably should have taken more off the bottom." He smirked down at her and she pulled the short pencil skirt down with a scowl.

"Master, why are you always picking on me?" she whined, looking around as she moved closer to him. Something didn't seem right; she was picking up some sort of power that kept following them, only to be lost amidst the human crowd.

"Because you allow me to, that's why. You're so easy to irritate, Seras." He slowed his pace and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. To passerby, it looked as though they were perusing the jewelry shop window (which Seras was), but Alucard bent down to point out a necklace, whispering in her ear.

"You've felt that before I did. _Very _good." She looked up at him in surprise and he nodded. "Yes, I only caught it through your apprehension. Someone is hiding from us, and hiding well." He gave her a proud look. "Although not well enough, it would seem." She beamed, accepting his praise with all the grace of a small child before looking back at the window, pointing out a pretty ruby bracelet.

"I like that one," she admitted aloud. Alucard followed her finger to the bracelet and chuckled.

"Ah, my frivolous little childe. Rubies, indeed." He chuckled again and patted her head. "I have something for you, one day. It will fit you much better than rubies, but you must wait for my gift." Seras sighed.

"Well, all good things come to those who wait, I suppose. Still, I can't wear something like that every day. I work too hard and it'll get all scratched." She pawed at the window sadly. "I guess it's not meant to be." Alucard bent down far enough for her to be able to see his eyes behind the orange lenses, instead of the glare burning back at her.

"I have stones in my personal collection that far outweigh any of these little baubles. One day, I'll let you have your pick." Seras' eyes lit up before she shook her head.

"You don't have to give me anything." Alucard shrugged before pulling her along.

"What am I going to be doing with black opals anyway? I promise you: one day you'll never have to work again, and I intend to cover you in millions of dollars' worth in jewels." He began pulling her along the streets, both of them beginning to hunt-tempting their shadow to come out of hiding so that they could find out what's going on. "I'll keep you safe in a castle that overlooks the mountains, and every day people will come to lay presents at your feet. Wolves will be your servants, and the rats and all the creatures of my kingdom will obey your every command. You'll want for nothing." His voice grew distant, imagining once again his fortress, rebuild from the ancient stones that now wasted away to nothing on a desert mountainside. It would all belong to her, a token of his devotion. What woman wouldn't want such a treasure? Seras giggled softly as she let him tug her down the street, the window displays flicking in her peripherals.

"That'd be nice, but I'd rather just stay with you. I don't need wolves and rats." He stopped and she ran into his back, her eyes rolling slightly. "Ouch."

"If that's what you wish," he agreed. "Perhaps one day we'll speak more of it and I can convince you otherwise. Until then, let us go interrogate our new friend hiding in the alleyway ahead."

* * *

**Afterword:** Juju says- Have sex more than once every half-century, otherwise you'll be overcome with violent sexual tension. You better just hope your significant other gets turned on by that. (*-* )


	12. Supunere

**Author's Note:**_ Shh… Did you know that I always look at my reviewers and go see what stories they've written? I'm curious in that way. I want to see what the people who read my stories are writing themselves._

* * *

"Stay still."

"Master, there's no way blood was splattered in ther_aaaah_!" Seras jumped back away from the shadows; she was now clean of the splatters that had coated her as she watched Alucard complete his "interrogation".

"Don't argue with me," Alucard ordered, but his shadows slithered away, fading into the darkness of the alley and carrying the dead Siren with them. Alucard cracked his neck, looking musingly at the carcass as it was dragged away. He placed his jacket on his shoulders, the sleeves billowing in the breeze that blew in between the tall buildings. "I wonder…."

"Hmm?" Seras walked to his side, feeling rather tall in her high heels. She could actually look over his shoulder now. "Is something wrong?" Alucard shook his head, letting out a dark chuckle before linking his arm through hers and blending them back into the crowd on the main street seamlessly. They walked back the way they had come. They passed the jewelry shoppe again and Seras craned her head to catch one last look at the ruby bracelet before it disappeared behind a heavyset man and his thin wife. Alucard pulled her along effortlessly and she almost fell, still getting used to being back in heels. She always wore her combat boots everywhere; it had been years since she'd even looked at a pair of high heels, since she wore flats when she was a human. She wondered why Alucard had dressed her in them when he'd used his powers to shape her outfit. Maybe he simply assumed that all women dressed up in heels when they went out.

"Have you ever heard of a woman that went by the name of Erzsébet Báthory?" Alucard asked suddenly. Seras looked up at him, seeing that he was looking rather subdued. Usually, he was glorifying in the bloodshed he'd been wallowing in. But tonight, he seemed more distant than usual although it had only come about after he'd forced himself to swallow the disgusting-smelling blood of the Siren he'd decapitated and gutted.

"No, I don't think I have." They walked together among the people, passing by a group of American tourists who were drooling over one of the many Beatles monuments that scattered the city. Seras stopped to look at a sign for a spa that advertised fish pedicures, giggling at the thought of sticking her feet in a bucket of fish in order to feel relaxed and refreshed. But a trip to the spa did sound nice; she hadn't been to one since she was a young girl and had won a radio contest. The orphanage had let her go, simply because it was all-expense-paid. "Master, what about this?" she asked, pointing to the sign. Alucard took one look and rolled his eyes.

"No. Now come along." Seras sighed, waiting to hear some snide comment about fish nibbling her toes. When nothing came, she began to get worried. Her master really wasn't acting like his normal self anymore, not since their little alleyway "chat" with the creature.

"Um, so about that Báthory woman? You were saying?" she tried to get him back on the subject he'd brought up. Perhaps he was just preoccupied with other thoughts, and not feeling ill from the blood. Hadn't he said that he'd eaten it before, in London? Surely he could handle a little rotten blood, although when he'd ripped the creatures heart out she'd been unable to keep her supper down from the putrid stench.

"What?" He looked at her snappily, but his eyes focused and he nodded. "Oh, yes. Well, she was also called Elizabeth, which is what I think she still goes by today. I'm pretty sure that she's behind these attacks."

"What? Why?" Seras tried to fall into step with him, but he was practically jogging through the streets and she just couldn't keep up with her high heels and short legs. "What's she got against England?"

"It's not England; or at least I don't think it is. Not right now, anyway. It's just the Siren's thoughts. They go more by their sense of smell than they do anything else, and the Countess' perfume is… distinct."

"Oh? Did you and she… well, is she a vampire?" Seras felt the fleeting pang of jealousy and unconsciously pulled closer to him, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Yes, and a damned good one at that, although she was sloppy enough to be found out by the humans and put on trial. Ask Walter; I'm almost certain that he's got a book about her that's fairly accurate, but if not I will explain in more detail tomorrow night."

"Right. Yes." She managed to pull him back into a slower walk, but she wasn't sure he even noticed it. His eyes told her that his mind was elsewhere, and he seemed to be almost edgy, as if he had something to be nervous about. She gathered her courage and tugged on his arm to get his attention. "Master, what's bothering you? You aren't talking as much as you normally do." Alucard patted her arm, sighing.

"I'm thinking about our next plan of action; I need a body that can spy on the Countess for me, and tell me what's going on and why. I have an old comrade by the name of Ruthven. He'd do this for me seeing as he owes me a debt from three hundred years ago, but the only thing that stands in our way is my master. Integra has never looked kindly upon my inhuman acquaintances." Alucard hummed softly to himself and looked up at the sky, which was beginning to lighten with the telltale coming of dawn. "But that can wait, I think. We need to return to London and update Walter, and get some more food into you. Aren't you hungry?" Seras felt her stomach clench at his question, a subtle reminder that her meal had been puked up into the alleyway and she was running on empty.

"I'm starving! Let's hurry and get back. Then you can tell me more."

* * *

Integra lay quietly on "her" bed with her hands resting in her lap as she stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. She wasn't a stupid woman- contrary to her natural hair tone, she had been taught from the earliest age to be curious about the world around her. Her father had drilled it into her mind during her lessons; Hellsings were scientists, they lived off experiments and enjoyed learning. She had always shared her father's love of research and investigation, and tried to apply it to her everyday life. So far, it had been quite the success. Even now, she was turning over the recent events in her mind, cataloguing them away and trying to sort them out into feelings and logic. It helped her sleep at night, if nothing else. Now, as she lay alone in the hotel room with only the bathroom light casting shadows, she allowed herself to think about the whatever-it-wasthat had happened between her and Anderson.

It wasn't the physical aspect of it that befuddled her: well, not entirely. She knew what _it _was, and of course she'd done her own "experiments" as a young, confused teenage girl growing up in a world of men. She'd even snuck onto Walter's computer at times in her youth to look up crude Internet videos that left her feeling hot and shaky. Even so, there had been a big difference between her lone escapades and being pinned down by a muscled-up deadweight.

She certainly hadn't expected it when she had touched his wrist-she had only been trying to get his attention to see if he was still planning on a trip to the store. But when the initial shock and fear had worn off and she had managed to calm herself, she realized that having him on top of her felt rather…_delicious_. His body was not the same as hers, his sculpted abs and tense muscles creating a nice contrast that rubbed against different places with every ragged breath he forced out. It had left a familiar throbbing in her lower stomach, and she'd found herself wishing that he'd stop moving so that she could properly examine the feeling of his skin against hers.

"What do you want from me?" he had asked her. His voice had been so deep and sultry, and at the same time he had been practically pleading for her to release him from whatever she'd done. The sound had made her limbs melt, warmth spreading all through her and she had realized with a jolt that it was desire she was feeling. She'd felt it before once, in the few awkward months of her teenage years that she had actually considered Alucard to be dark and sexy. But that little tickle was nothing compared to this. It was frightening, consuming. It left her craving more. He'd looked at her, his eyes echoing the hunger that she felt. She'd felt guilty about putting him through what appeared to be torment for him, although she couldn't imagine why unless it was because she was a Protestant that he shouldn't be lusting after. She'd apologized cautiously, reaching up to stroke his short hair. He'd growled warningly at her, but it had been only a half-step away from a groan.

Thinking back, she kicked herself for not taking more opportunity. As a natural-born scientist, she couldn't help but want to go back in time and relive it again, perhaps even prolong the contact for more research. A part of her laughed at the thought of treating foreplay like a dissection, but it was true. She had the strangest urge to figure out a way to get him back on top of her so that she could use all her senses to try and figure out the strange priest, to see what made him tick. Besides, he was slated to be her husband and she found that deep down, she didn't care all that much what religion he was anymore. As long as they were able to give each other a small amount of peace; for some reason, even Alucard didn't bother her half as much when Anderson was on her side of things. Maybe adding another human to the mix evened things out mentally.

Integra sighed and rolled over, rubbing one eye wearily. She knew that Anderson had been mortified by the whole ordeal, and it was unlikely that he'd touch her all that much even when they were married. Didn't he tell her that he would rather have chosen abstinence over marriage? He'd never bring himself to care about her in any significant way.

That didn't bother Integra too much; although her father had certainly loved her and Walter cared a great deal for her, she'd never grown with the unconditional love that other children had from their mothers and extended family. She was fine with being a bit lonely for the rest of her life. But whatever had passed between them, swimming thick with tension and lust and mutual _fondness_; that had been damn close to what she always thought love had felt like, or at least judged from the movies she'd seen and the books she'd read. But something deep down told her that she wasn't there yet-only standing on the cliff and looking down, unable to make the leap. It would be easy to make a false step and fall over into the canyon that spread beneath her, but it would probably break something when she fell.

She really ought to talk this over with the man when he returned. He'd be like normal men and deny and fight and complain about talking _feelings_ with anyone, but she knew that things had to be alright between them come wedding day. Come to think of it, they needed to talk about that too. She fingered the silver band on her thumb idly, trying to wrap up her thoughts. She turned back over when the door swung open and Anderson entered, carrying a small bag and looking at her rather crossly.

"I don't have a picture ID for the cigars. They refused to sell them to me without one; as if I look like some troublemaking child." He handed her the bag. "I got something to eat and drink, though. Not a lot, but something." He refused to look at her as she poked her nose in the bag, pulling out two cans of soda and two sloppily wrapped packages that turned out to be hamburgers. She sniffed one burger cautiously before taking a bite. Once she managed to ignore the thick taste of grease, it was edible.

"That's all right; I've decided that I'm probably not going to be able to smoke until this whole Siren thing blows down and I can go home. Besides, the name I told you are my substitutes. My real cigars have to be imported." She took another bite and watched him eat his own hamburger sullenly.

"I called the accountants again. They promised to wire me a little bit of cash tomorrow. We'll have to go down to a bank." He wrinkled his nose at the taste of the burger and picked up the can, downing what looked like half of it in one gulp. Integra sipped her own drink, trying not to smile at the vexed expression. _I can see why the accountants must hate him. He probably requires a truckload of food for himself every day. _She wondered if his metabolism worked overdrive when he was injured. They finished the rest of the meal in silence.

* * *

Walter pursed his lips as he looked over the bookshelves, finally pulling out a tiny novel. He handed it to Seras, who looked at the cover curiously. The dark-haired lady on the front was gorgeous, although her face looked as though she wore a perpetual frown.

"This is the book Alucard was referring to, I think. Like he said, not all of it is true, but it does paint a particularly grotesque picture." Seras looked back up at him, her brows furrowing.

"What in the world did she do? Let the bodies lay up in the streets? It's not hard to hide evidence that you're a vampire, but Master said that she had been caught by humans." She tapped the cover of the book absently as Walter made a disgusted face.

"No, she didn't leave them out; but she did take the young virgin daughters of nobles and slaughter them viciously. It's said that to remain young, she bathed in their blood."

"Wouldn't that stain her skin?" Seras blurted out. It was a horrid picture in her mind, a young pretty woman bathing in a pool of thick, congealing blood. She heard Alucard purr in her mind at the picture and frowned, trying to shove him back out of her thoughts. Walter shrugged, already going back to his desk and the never-ending stream of paperwork that rested on it.

"I wouldn't know."

* * *

Seras sat at the little table in her room, flipping through the pages of tiny print. Thankfully, there weren't any pictures of bloody bathtubs but overall the book looked rather boring. She wasn't looking forward to reading it. _Why couldn't Master just tell me about her and be done with it?_

"Do you want me to read it to you?" a voice answered in her ear and she fell back in her chair with a screech. Two deft hands caught the chair and righted it before she crashed to the ground in a heap. Their owner laughed cruelly, taking the book from her hands and looking at it himself. Seras glared at him reproachfully as he slowly turned the pages, his eyes lighting up with mirth as he read. After a moment, he placed the book on the table and stood behind her. Seras was slightly startled when his cool hands landed on her shoulders, rubbing them as he spoke to her. "Police Girl, when I tell you to read something, it's because I don't have the time or the patience to teach it to you myself. If I wanted to fill your head up with stories, I most certainly would. As it is, you need to read classical vampire literature. It will teach you in the end." His nails dug into her shoulders and she winced.

"Yes sir." She felt his hands stop their painful massage and slip down her arms as he bent to her level, almost kneeling on the ground. She looked over and met his eyes.

"Read the book, Seras." He leaned in closer, his nose less than an inch from hers. "Tonight." She nodded, picking up the book once more in obedience. He sneered and vanished into thin air, another chuckle escaping as he jerked the chair's legs out from under it. She managed to grab onto the table before the chair hit the ground, cursing loudly and kicking at the leftover mist. When nothing happened, she hugged the book to her chest and bent down to grab the chair. _What's got into him? _First he was nice to her, then he was distant, and now he was chastising her, all in one night at that! He was acting moodier than a schoolgirl! She frowned, walking over to her bed and turning on the reading lamp. Maybe he had been turned down by Sir Integra and was taking it out on her. No, he'd have made a bigger fuss than that. He was probably just bored and wanted someone to push around, the big bully.

_You're not reading! _The accusatory voice chimed in her head threateningly. A warning push on her psyche a moment later and she was cracking open the book, hunched over the first page.

_I'm reading! I'm reading!_

* * *

"_Please! Don't kill me! My father is rich; he can give you anything you want, really! Don't-" the young lady's cries were cut off into choking gurgles as the young man drew a knife across her throat, letting it empty into the large vat. After she was properly drained and disposed of down a hole in the wall, he stirred the waters luxuriously and turned to the gilded vanity in the corner of the large room. _

"_Madame, your bath is ready." A young, beautiful woman stood from the vanity and made her way to the tub, letting her robe slide down over her shoulders. Her naked body shown in the bright light of the moon that hung low over the castle. Her crimson gaze looked on the tub with delight as she settled into it, reveling in the way the thick substance slid across her smooth skin. Looking up at him, she smiled and crooked her finger. When he leaned in close, she picked up a goblet from the floor next to her and dipped it in the blood, holding it up as a reward. He took it and sipped gratefully, licking his lips. "Delicious. A perfect specimen; only the best for Madame." _

"_Oh, how you pamper me, boy." She laid her head back on the tub, her neck arching as she soaked languidly. "Tell me; won't you join me this evening?" He bowed, a small smile flickering across his face. _

"_No, Madame. The steward says that he found a poorhouse boy that was willing to come to be my personal… servant, if you will. I'm looking forward to spending time with him when he arrives tonight, and it won't do any good for me to be seen with wet hair." The woman tittered, her hand over her mouth daintily. _

"_Ambrose, you naughty thing! What am I going to do with you?" she cooed, ruffling the blonde locks that hung down around his shoulders. She sighed, relaxing even more and bringing the goblet to her own ruby lips. "How is my plan coming along?" Ambrose paused and she opened one eye, pouring the rest of the blood back into the bath. "What is it? Answer me, boy!" she snapped, feeling a nervous rage come upon her. Ambrose was unfazed by the shouts. _

"_Well Madame, our hired forces are being slaughtered left and right by the English. Most notably, the Hellsing Organization." The woman cursed and flung the goblet across the room. _

"_Those half-brained beasts! I'd have had more luck sending the girls out there!" She sunk into the tub until her chin touched the blood. "Wait, Hellsing? Where have I heard that name before?" She pulled one hand out of the water and scratched her temple, the blood running down her cheek like tears. Ambrose retrieved her goblet and handed it back to her, coughing quietly. _

"_They're the Organization that claims control of the vampire Alucard," he explained, sinking down to sit beside the tub with his elbows propped on the rim. _

"_Alucard? Alucard…" The woman looked up at the chandelier before smiling and snapping her fingers. "Oh, Vlad! How is he these days?" Ambrose smiled; this was the question he'd been waiting for his Mistress to ask. _

"_Word on the street is that he's got a fledgling. A little blonde bird that goes by the name of Seras Victoria." He pulled the laminated image from his coat pocket and handed it to her. She tilted her head, looking at the police ID with a smile. _

"_What pretty coloring she has. I bet her blood is scrumptious. I wonder if he'd give her up, for a good price? The prince always did enjoy a variety of women. Don't you think it's strange that he's limited himself to this one childe?" She waved the likeness at the boy, who shrugged. _

"_Rumor has it that she's to be the new No-Life-Queen. I've heard she's quite the spitfire, and no stranger to battle." _

"_I want her. I really do want her for my collection." The woman put a hand to her face, blushing as she looked on the image. "I want her, Ambrose. Get her for me." When no answer came, she looked up sharply to see that her fledgling's face had lost turned a sickly color. _

"_I cannot, Madame. The No-Life-King's own fledgling? That's a death sentence! Don't think like that!" _

"_Oh, I suppose you're right," the woman pouted. Her voice raised into a whine. "But I need her!" She looked over at the window. "Call Ruthven. I want to see if he can bargain a price for this little Victoria. Surely Vlad will see reason. I need her." _

"_Certainly, Madame." Ambrose raised himself off the floor and walked out of the room. After he was gone, the woman tenderly caressed the picture and smiled to herself. _

"_Soon, my little Victoria. You will be mine, the way it should be," she crooned. _

* * *

A thump and a muffled curse pulled Integra out of her doze and she groaned softly. She'd been tossing and turning in her bed all night as it was, and had just gotten to sleep. As much as she hated to admit it, she was chilly in her bed all by herself. Anderson hadn't been tossing and turning like she had been, but she had known by his uneven breathing that he hadn't been asleep either. And it seemed he'd moved his cause to the bathroom, where a stream of muttered, colorful sentences proclaimed that he'd just broken something. Sighing, she picked herself up quietly out of bed and padded over in her bare feet to the bathroom door, putting her ear up to the wood. She shivered in the night air; the cool breeze coming from the ocean didn't help her naturally low body temperature, and besides that she still had to use Anderson's thin shirt as sleepwear. Timidly, she knocked on the door, unsure why she was feeling such unaccustomed shyness.

"Can-can I come in?" she asked lamely, and slowly turned the knob to give him time to say no. When nothing came, she peeked around the door to see that he was splashing water on his face, one of the knobs hanging loosely off the faucet. He looked at her, his gaze traveling down to her legs before he dried the drops off his face with an overly-fluffy hotel towel. She leaned against the doorframe, watching the muscles in his arms ripple as he pushed the towel over his stubble. He wasn't exactly ignoring her, but he wasn't acknowledging her either.

"We need to talk, Alexander." She tried to sound firm, but her voice came out soft and sad instead. She watched his shoulders sag and he shook his head. He lifted his head and his eyes grew steely at the sight of her expectant face.

"Not at three in the morning, we don't. I'm going back to bed." He pushed past her roughly, throwing the towel on the tiled floor. She followed after him, turning off the light. She heard him settle back into bed and flipped on the switch for the lamp, standing up beside him with her hands on her hips. He squinted at her and frowned when she crawled to sit on the bed beside him. He sat back up, pointing at the other bed. "No, you're not sleeping here," he commanded as if she were a dog. "Go over there."

"Not until you and I sort this out. Besides, you might as well get used to sleeping with me. We need to hurry up and decide a wedding date, you know." He snarled angrily under his breath and turned away to glare at the wall, his back to her.

"I'm not going over this right now with you. Go to bed," he ordered again. She put her hands on his shoulders, feeling the way he strained under her touch. She rubbed, not really sure how to ease the tension. "Stop." She obeyed, one hand moving up to rub an uneven patch of hair at his nape where it tapered off to skin while the other felt the heat of his wound. It wasn't as much as before, but it was still much warmer than the skin around it. She scratched his head lightly with her nails, humming and waiting for him to turn back around and acknowledge her. Finally he snapped and swung around, slapping her hand away.

"What do you _want_?" he roared, his eyes narrowed. She felt exasperation bubble up in her gut. Why was it so hard for him to just admit things? He'd all but said that he was attracted to her when he had her pinned beneath him, and she thought it had been pretty obvious that she felt the same way. It's not like she'd been screaming rape or fighting all that hard to get him off of her!

"I want you to listento me!" she shouted back, coming nose-to-nose with him. He grunted and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her away from him. She sat back on the bed, grinding her teeth as he stared her down.

"Well, I don't want to listen to you!" he retorted, crossing his arms and backing away from her as far as the bed would allow. She felt so frustrated that she almost burst into tears. She was beyond aggravated.

"What _do_ you want then?" she cried, throwing her hands in the air. If this was the way it was supposed to be when they were married, she was going to end up shooting herself. Even her cigars wouldn't have helped dissipate this much stress. He didn't answer; he just blinked at her, his face slowly becoming blank as he banished his anger and God knows what other emotions deep to wherever he pushed them. She could see how he distanced himself from the creatures he killed; he was trying to do the same to her. She pulled him by his shoulders, trying to shake him and rattle his brain into answering. "Tell me!" she begged, weary beyond words. She was exhausted from trying to figure out what he wanted from her. A wife? A companion? Nothing?

He glared bleakly at her and she felt her hands moving of their own accord up his neck, lightly brushing his chin. _Research, _she reminded herself mentally but her body was already reacting, begging to be pushed up next to him and soak in the warmth he provided.

"Stop touching me," he demanded, but his hands were inching up the bed towards her legs. She almost groaned out loud from sheer impatience when he reached her knees and stopped. The damned man was trying his best to fight her, despite what he felt. She finally was able to maneuver enough to rest her forehead on his. He had screwed his eyes shut, refusing to give in.

"Is it me?" she finally asked. "Do you really hate me that much?" At her words he opened his eyes and pulled back.

"It's not you," he admitted. "It's what I am. Or who I was, at least." Integra gave him a blank look, trying to decide what he meant. At her confusion, he looked away. "It's none of your concern. I'm a priest; I shouldn't be having… _doing _things like this with some woman anymore."

"I'm not just some woman. I'm your fiancée." It was the first time she'd actually said it out loud and meant it; she was just irritating him when she'd used it with Walter. "We've been cleared by your Church, right? Surely then they can't say anything about this." She lowered her voice, feeling that familiar hunger pulling at her bones. She leaned in again, looking as though she were going to share a secret. "What is it that you want?" she whispered. He swallowed, drawing her attention back to his neck. She pulled her fingers back to his shoulder and dipped down farther along his collarbone, feeling the wiry chest hair running across her palm as he took a deep breath. "I'll tell you what I want."

She felt his surrender, the relaxing muscles under her as he pulled her onto his lap, his hands running over her bare legs repeatedly. He took a shuddering breath, keeping his eyes shut as she took the liberty of touching him everywhere she could reach: his arms, his back, always ending back up in his hair as she let herself be tugged closer. She could hardly stand the feeling; it was the sweetest torture she'd never imagined.

"I want a husband." Now, they were both on that cliff, each waiting to see who would push the other off first. _Fuck this_, she thought as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. She'd just drag him over the side with her, since he wasn't planning on taking any initiative. She broke away after only the quickest brush, leaning down to pepper his jawline with soft kisses. "They all want me to be cold and heartless; I'm exhausted from living up to their expectations of me." She nipped his ear and he jerked her closer, his breath hitching in his throat as he practically vibrated under her touch. "I want a husband who can respect and honor me, who will understand what I have to do each day. I want a husband who can give me a moment's peace from daily life and be comforting." She pulled back and looked at him, a serious look on her face. "Can you do that?" He gave her a look of mixed desire and fatigue.

"That's a heavy burden to have on a body," he said finally. "I can try." He leaned back to rest against the headboard, taking her with him unthinkingly. She felt his hands catch on the hem of the shirt and looked down at him, her hair falling around him like a curtain.

"That's all I ask." She traced one finger over his chest and down the middle of his stomach, delighting in the way he flexed under her touch. "And in return," she murmured, leaning in to press her lips against his forehead. "I will try too. I will try to honor you, and respect you." She paused when he caught her hand when it reached his pants.

"And you will submit to me?" he asked incredulously. "Wives, submit to your husbands as is fitting in the Lord." He arched a brow at her, prepared to hear her lecture about being her own woman and never letting anyone command her. She froze above him, her face turning a mottled red before simmering back down. She lay on top of him, her nose brushing his.

"Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her," she quoted back. "When you love me, I'll submit to you." He exhaled slowly, pushing her off him gently as he rolled over.

"I'm going to bed, Integra. It's early in the morning." He closed his eyes, waiting for her to move back to her own bed. When she didn't move, he peeked at her from under his lashes. "I said that I'm going to bed."

"I'm serious about sleeping here tonight." She moved closer to him, seeking the warmth that radiated from his bones. He rolled his eyes and pushed her to the far side of the bed before turning off the light.

"You can stay here, but stay on your own side. Goodnight." Integra yawned, feeling the aching void in her stomach slowly vanish. She'd have time to work on him, of course but tonight was a good start.

* * *

Seras felt a tug on her shirt and jerked awake, pulling the book off her face quickly.

"I was only taking a break, I swear!" she squeaked, only to relax as Alucard lay down next to her with a thump. "Master, I'm tired but I'm trying to finish the book tonight." She held up the book helpfully and turned the page, eager to prove herself an honest Draculina. He sighed and pulled the book away, turning the ribbon bookmark to the page and throwing it across the room like a Frisbee. It landed on the table, skidding across the wood before coming to rest in the far chair.

"Forget about the book," he muttered, burying his face in her shoulder. When she shifted away he jerked her back, holding her still in an iron grip. Seras clucked and patted his hand, wondering what was wrong this time. "I tried to contact my master, to ask permission to find Ruthven. She was a bit preoccupied with the Judas Priest, so I have to wait."

"Preoccupied?" Seras' eyes strayed to the digital clock on the wall. "At three in the mor-_oh_. Well, they are going to be married and have children so it's only natural that they would have-"

"Don't you _dare _use that term in the same sentence that you're speaking of the priest in." He hissed angrily, pulling her even closer despite her protests. "It was bad enough I got a taste of the emotion, much less any sort of deed." Seras caught a whiff of pheromones in the air and almost licked her lips. Her poor master… he couldn't help but be turned on by second-hand emotions. It was worse than her own labored hacking whenever she accidently inhaled some of Sir Integra's cigar smoke. She wriggled out of his grasp and pushed him away firmly.

This had happened once or twice before, but she'd never thought much of it. Still, it was unnerving to look at his eyes, glowing with hunger in the darkness of her coffin. He'd never acted on any feelings, although the first time it had ever happened she was sure he was going to either rape her or tear apart the mansion. All she had to do was keep him calm until he dropped off to sleep.

"I wasn't mocking you when I told you that I'd keep you in that castle," he admitted, pulling her back to his chest and almost snapping her arm in the thoughtless gesture. "I want to keep you for myself." He buried his face back into her hair and she sighed, trying to get comfortable despite the arm digging into her lower back.

"Master, you're very selfish. I'm not some toy you can just hide away because you don't want anyone else to play with it," she admonished gently. "I'm a living person; I have needs too. What I need is for you to let me go, unless you want me to throw you out of here."

Her threat wasn't empty. She had given him permission to lie in her coffin, but she could just as easily take it back and make him leave her alone. It would infuriate him beyond all reason, but hey-she could just hide in her coffin until he managed to coax her back out with promises to spare her life and not beat her for her insubordination. She knew she could; it had happened once before and the incident had almost ended in disaster until Walter had finally convinced Alucard that threatening his fledgling's life probably wasn't going to make her want to leave her temporary sanctuary.

"Don't order me around, you little upstart." However, he let her move away and she found a comfortable position near the other wall. He lowered the lid and growled to himself, choosing to bury his face in her only pillow instead. She glared at him and made a pillow out of her arms, trying to go back to sleep. His mind was racing with thoughts, many of them flying by too fast but still making her antsy through their bond. After a moment, his thoughts slipped away into nothing and she felt a hot tongue lick the back of her hand. Lifting her head, she looked at the multi-eyed hound that was where her sire had been and patted its head. Reclaiming her pillow she let her master lay his now-fuzzy head on her stomach and drifted back to sleep, listening to the simple, repetitive thoughts of a dog. He'd often slipped into a dog's form when he couldn't sleep due to restless thoughts, but it was becoming rarer to see the black hulking beast make his way through the halls. For some reason, he'd rather just bunk with his childe.

"You didn't have to do that. I would have managed to go to sleep anyway." The dog didn't answer of course, but his tail thumped against the coffin lid and he let out a sigh. Seras scratched his ear, barely conscious. "You did it just to have an excuse to lay on me, didn't you?"


	13. Pierderi

**Author's Note:** Lots of people got the Elizabeth Báthory reference! (Cheers) She's one of the main reasons I started to read about vampires, after I saw a documentary about her on the History Channel. If you haven't heard about her, look her up. It's a pretty gruesome (but awesome) tale about a woman who thought she could remain young by sacrificing virgins and bathing in their blood. Beautiful.

Not as many people got the Ruthven reference. That's okay. I didn't hear about Polidori's The Vampyre myself until I was in college. I forgive you for this minor transgression. In the book, Ruthven was… his last name, I think? But I like it better as a first name. _Ioa _comes from the real-life city of Ruthven, Iowa.

* * *

Seras walked carefully among the knee-high grass. She was at the southern edge of Hellsing property. Here, the gardeners didn't bother clearing since it was situated so far away from the home. It was used as a dumping ground for old garden plants and flowered planters that had overstayed their welcome, and the not-so-dead flora had taken root here and there among the shattered urns. It was beautiful, in a slightly creepy way. It reminded Seras of an old, ancient civilization that had sprouted new life among the ruins.

But she wasn't here to sightsee or play around; she had a job to do. She was on patrol, her pistol slung into its holster around her waist. Still, she couldn't help but make her way slowly through the grass. It was a nice night, with the half-moon being more than enough to light up the grounds. The rusty wrought-iron accent along the top of the stone fence creaked in the breeze. Seras looked out through the bars that came down to her waist before molding into solid stone. While empty fields covered the three main walls of the manor, the southern end opened into a dark forest that seemed to stretch on forever.

The breeze changed directions and a strange scent caught her attention. Her nose twitched once and her eyes shifted to the right, her gaze searching down the fence though her body didn't move. Her heightened awareness was one of the vampiric powers she was appreciative of; otherwise, she'd never be able to catch the telltale signs of an intruder. You could try to hide, but you will always smell like something that doesn't belong. Here, fresh sweat and the fragrance of mahogany leather definitely weren't natural odors.

She caught sight of the would-be trespasser at the end of the fence, where it turned along the property line and was held up by a decorative brick pillar. At first glance, the man seemed to be simply observing the property and not bothering to scale the fence to gain entrance. But something about him didn't seem right. Seras moved slowly, her combat training at work as she casually made her way down the boundary. _Scrutinize- details are always important. _

The man was handsome- or would have been if he didn't look so ragged. His clothing was in tatters, the jacket hanging in ribbons that fluttered in the breeze and his pants had tears all up the sides. His shoes were muddy and his white undershirt was stained with something that looked suspiciously like bodily fluids. His hair was a mess of kinky ebony curls that would have framed his profile nicely if it had been styled. Instead, it was messy and embedded with twigs and leaves. All in all, he looked either seriously roughed up or homeless.

"It's a pleasant night, isn't it?" she asked nonchalantly, walking loudly through the brush and hitting urns purposely. She didn't want to alarm him, and besides she needed him to realize that she was there. He didn't look at her right away, and she had the thought that he may have been one of the millions of mentally ill roaming London's streets. He could have wandered away from the lights and been lost in the forest before ending up here as a freak accident. He certainly looked as though he didn't care for his appearance.

She reached the spot where she stood opposite him and was astonished to see that he didn't smell all that bad. If he was a destitute, he hadn't been one long enough to gain the unmistakable stench. His eyes were closed and his head downcast, forcing his face into shadow. She quickly drew her pistol and tapped it lightly against the metal bar. "Sir, please look me in the eyes and present some ID. This is private property, you know." She had a concern that he was up to something. Humans shouldn't be this far off the main road, but he just didn't seem to be… normal. Her suspicions were confirmed when he finally looked her in the eyes. She bit back a startled cry as she saw that his own gaze was a watery orange, with wide pupils that made him look like a demonic deer. He looked her over, taking her in and fell against the bars desperately, his face smashed against the cold iron.

"Seras Victoria," he gasped out. She backed away a step, holding up her gun warily. He held up his hands to clutch the bars, looking around fearfully before motioning her over. "Please, don't be frightened. I'm not here to hurt you." When she didn't move, he became even more frantic. "Please! I don't have much time left!" Seras redoubled her thoughts that he may have been a little mental, but held her gun by her side and moved closer warily. He was a Midian, and he looked as though he were in trouble. Her instincts told her that she didn't have anything to fear from him. He was more worried about whatever was on the other side of those bars than he was about her.

"How do you know my name?" she blurted out. The man pulled a scrap of paper from his jacket and handed it to her. Seras let out a gasp as she recognized herself. It was a paper copy of her laminated police ID- the kind she'd had as a human. Bloodstains covered the right-hand side as if someone had been holding it with bloody hands.

"Listen to me: my name is Ruthven Ioa. I was told to come and kidnap you, the girl in that likeness," he pointed at the picture in Seras' hand, "for the Countess Báthory." He shook his head, curls flying wildly. "But I can't do it. I just can't. They can say that I'm a weasel and a slime ball and everything else that crawls in the dirt. But they can't accuse me of not knowing where my loyalties lie."

"Why are you telling me this?" Seras asked helplessly. Countess Báthory? Alucard was right- she did have something to do with this. "What is this, some sort of takeover?"

"It's a crime against the crown, girl!" He leaned in as close as the bars let him and Seras copied him until their noses touched through the gap and she could smell his irony breath. It mixed terribly with the leather scent, which she recognized as aftershave. "My cards lie with the King. Vlad's helped me too much in my lonely years on Earth for me to even think about betraying him. I'm hoping that by saving your life, I can repay that debt in some small way." He smiled sadly. "You're in great danger. You, your mansion, and your country. In fact, the entire Western nations will be nothing if that woman has her way. You've got to stop her."

"Hold on; let me run back and get Master. You should tell him what you told me. He can help-" The breeze picked up into a rough wind and Seras cringed. The air from the forest smelled absolutely _putrid. _Ruthven took in a sharp breath and looked over his shoulder at the leaves fluttering in the trees.

"No time." He turned and assumed a defensive stance, his panicky eyes meeting hers one last time. "I'll hold them off for as long as I can. Run away. Find your master and don't leave his side." He smiled, and Seras noticed that the gesture lit up his face, making even the bags under his eyes seem attractive. "I'm happy that I was able to meet you. You'll do him a lot of good, just like my darling Aubrey was to me. I'm looking forward to seeing her again." She was about to ask what he meant when she saw the glowing eyes slowly appearing all in the forest. Ruthven was outnumbered. "Run!"

She broke into a dead sprint, trying to ignore the sounds of battle behind her as she ran to the house. She called her master mentally, trying to get him to come to her quickly. If she could double back in time, they might be able to help Ruthven and save his life. He had put his faith in her; she couldn't let him down. Her country depended on it, if what he said was true. She reached the door within five minutes and Alucard met her there, his guns in hand.

"Where?" he asked. She pointed to the south, noticing that her hand was trembling from her taxed nerves. He took a whiff of the breeze and she heard the sharp click as he snapped his fangs together in anger. "Show me." She ran back, feeling him fall into place beside her and urged herself to go faster. She was worried beyond all reason. This unknown Midian had risked his life to save hers. It was for her master's benefit and not hers; but she still felt obligated to like him for it.

She hit the southern fence with a slam, shaking the stones in their foundation and they almost cracked. Beyond the fence, all was quiet but the thick stench in the air was undeniable; decaying flesh and blood. It was a different smell then that of a Ghoul- the flesh was rotten, but it still held a weird tang to the scent that she couldn't figure out. She wrinkled her nose and clenched the bars as she looked out into the night, accidently bending them in her grip.

"Stay here." Alucard ordered and phased through the bars, walking into the words without a second glance. Seras felt the urge to scale the fence and follow anyway, but if those _things _out there were after her, she may be better off staying within the fence. Besides, she'd pretty much said that she'd stay by her Master's side, and part of that was following his orders without hesitation. And so she waited for him, listening to his footsteps until they were indistinguishable from the other sounds within the forest.

When he returned from the gloom, she saw his face was twisted in rage and disgust and leaned forward anxiously. He went back through the bars as if they weren't there and held his hand out to her. In his palm was a handful of bloody ash. He emptied it on the ground and they watched as it scattered in the wind.

"Master." She looked up at him, her eyes questioning. "What- why…"

"It was the Countess Báthory. She set her girls on Ruthven. I scattered the ashes so that he couldn't be desecrated even more. He was too noble to be seen that way." Alucard looked away, his hands clenched into fists. "She will pay for her transgression here tonight." Seras looked down and realized that she still held the bloody ID in her hand. She held it out for him to see.

"He gave me this. He said that he knew where his loyalties lay, and he hoped that by saving me that he'd repay some small part of what he owed you." She looked sadly at her grinning face on the card. "He said that the Western nations were in trouble, unless we stopped her." Alucard gingerly picked the card up from her outstretched hand, looking at the bloody prints.

"She was after you." It wasn't a question. Seras nodded and looked back towards the dark trees.

"You said she set her girls on him. You mean the girls that she killed? Her Ghouls?" Alucard shook his head and removed his glasses. His eyes were weary, the way they always looked when he was saddened by something. Seras always felt the most for him in those moments; he looked as though the world rested on his shoulders and there was no relief in sight.

"It's better that you not know, Seras. There are some lengths in this world that even I wouldn't go to." He turned, looking one last time at the ash dotting the ground. "Come; let's go tell Walter what has happened." He turned without another word and began to walk slowly back to the manor. Seras followed, looking back at the whispering woods. The wind shifted once more and the faint whiff of burnt ash caught her nose, forcing her to quicken her pace and cling to her master's coat like a frightened child. Even monsters didn't like thinking about their demise.

* * *

_"No! No!" Chairs were flung against the wall, the bathtub was overturned, the vanity was smashed against the fluffy bed, and the bed curtains were ripped down as the woman let out scream after scream. Ambrose stood sullenly in the middle of the hurricane while the Girls cowered in the corner, unable to protect themselves from the onslaught of the Countess' rage. The red-faced woman spun around and pointed a bony finger in Ambrose's face. "You were supposed to make sure she was in my hands by nightfall! And that traitorous Ioa goes and does this… I'm so vexed right now!" she screamed. "You should have seen this coming, idiot child!" _

_Ambrose let out a sigh and the door opened suddenly behind him. He turned in surprise to see the regal-looking man standing there. He stood in shock before bowing quickly, his muttered greeting drowned out by the Countess' rage. The man's mustache quivered as he stared at the woman in the middle of the room. He looked around, scratching his beard and shook his head. _

"_I heard you all the way upstairs; what's the problem now, wife?" he asked wearily. He looked at Ambrose, who shrugged and pointed to the frightened creatures in the corner in answer. The man curled his nose before sniffing delicately and turning away from the sight. Seeing that the attention had been taken off her, the woman threw herself in her husband's path. _

"_That Ruthven! He __**made**__ me kill him because he was a traitor! All I wanted," she began, her jowl quivering as she began to cry fat crocodile tears, "All I wanted was the little Victoria girl. That's all. And now I can't have her because Ioa tipped her sire off!" The man stared blankly before once again turning to the young Frenchman. _

"_Your wife became enamored with the fledgling of one Count Dracula, or Vlad or Alucard or Satan: whatever the hell you wish to call him. Ruthven, being the fiercely loyal Count that I told her he'd be, told the young girl of Madame's plan or a part of it anyway. She is now throwing a tantrum, as always." He nodded his head. "In the overused words of my people, c'est la vie." The man rolled his eyes before coughing and patting the distraught woman awkwardly on the head._

"_Quiet yourself, Erzsébet. You should have known better. Even when we were humans, Ruthven was loyal to the Dark King beyond all others. Besides, are you really so foolish to think that the king will give up his fledgling? Would you give up Ambrose, for any price?" The woman gasped and held out her hands to the young man, who obediently let her hold him and stroke his hair. _

"_No! I'd never let anyone take my darling!" she vehemently cried to her husband. He nodded. _

"_Well then calm down and busy yourself with your… girls. Leave me to my peace." The man walked on down the hall and out of sight. The Countess stared at the open door before whining piteously and throwing herself face-down on the bed. Ambrose waved the Girls out of the room before closing the heavy door and petting his mistress' head affectionately. She sniffed dramatically and lifted herself up on her arms, her long lashes fluttering. _

"_Oh, Ambrose. You're such a comfort," she cooed softly. "I'd never let you go." He nodded, his blonde locks falling around his face and making him seem much younger than he really was. _

"_I would rather die than be parted from Madame." He looked at her sadly. "I wish there were some way to ease your suffering. I'd let you have my stable boy, but I accidentally broke him. It turns out he wasn't sturdy at all." The woman clucked, shaking her head. _

"_Even my girls weren't able to get past the spell on that fence. What am I to do? I need this girl for my collection- I won't rest until I have her as mine! Just think of how pretty her pale skin would look, covered in lacerations and blood! My claws would rend her smooth flesh like butter. It would be delightful." She lay back on the bed with a sigh. Ambrose looked at her for a long moment before bending down and giving her a hug, squeezing slightly. _

"_I will take the girls back to England. I will try to get her for you. I'll do my best, even if it kills me." The woman shot up from the bed, clutching his shoulders. _

"_Don't say that! Vlad will kill you without pretense, you foolish childe." She pushed his hair back behind his ears. "If you want to go to England for me, take the girls and go. But don't risk your life in that strange country. What am I supposed to do when you're gone? It's torture, to lose a fledgling. You wouldn't know that yet, because you're still so young." _

"_Madame, I'm over two hundred years old," he laughed. She chuckled and kissed his forehead._

"_Yes, still so young and naïve. But go, if you want to. I will stay here and worry my head off like a good dame should. Perhaps I'll bring up one of the humans to keep me company while you're away." She was already looking out the window, her eyes lighting up as she calculated her next torture. "Yes…" _

* * *

"Did you know him well?" Seras asked, looking up at an angle to try and see Alucard's face. They were relaxing quietly in his room; well, Seras was relaxing and Alucard was sullen. She was trying to get to the cause of his mood. It could be that he woke up that way; he was unsurprisingly gone from her coffin by the time she finally pulled herself out of bed. Walter hadn't said anything of importance considering the murder outside of the fence. He'd promised to update Sir Integra immediately, but apparently she was in an important meeting in Liverpool with Vatican representatives and couldn't be bothered right away. So she'd chalked it up to the vampire's death itself.

Now, they sat together; him in his chair while she sprawled out on the cool stones, her feet on the armrest. He looked down at her, his face an emotionless void. He sighed.

"Who?"

"Ruthven Ioa. You seemed to be sad when you saw that he died." He growled and knocked her feet off his chair before slumping with his chin in hand.

"We knew each other well enough. He's almost as old as I, though not quite as powerful of course." He looked at the stones on the far wall, his eyes distant. "He owed me a great debt; I'm glad he was able to settle it before he died."

"So I'm really that valuable?" she asked teasingly, trying to cheer him up. She hated when her master pulled himself into such depressing moods. She almost rather have him livid and trying to kill her rather than irritable and morose.

"Of course not," he snapped. She couldn't help but look a little crestfallen. Even if she was only teasing, he didn't have to be so scornful. She turned over and lay on her stomach, facing away from his chair. She drew patterns in the layer of dust that never seemed to disappear no matter how often Walter swept, feeling her own mood dissipating. It was only a ruse; she was just as affected by the man's death. Even more so- he was a stranger to her and his first and only impression had been one of kindness. A pair of boots stomped on her, the heels digging into her lower back.

"A vampire's fledgling is not a plaything, to be bought and sold or stolen and given." He lightened the load on her back, but still held her pinned to the floor. "A good human parent doesn't sell his child to anyone. Neither does a good vampire parent, if you can call us that. You should be happy that I take care of you, because I assure you that no one looked after me." He seemed to consider the statement before taking his boots off her spine. "Then again, I never had my ass handed to me like you do."

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after my own ass, thank you very much." Seras tried to jump to her feet but something collided with her posterior and she was slammed back into the stones, her quick reflexes the only thing saving her from having a broken jaw and missing teeth. Alucard's scathing laughter filled the chambers and she finally was allowed to stand up, her face flushing with humiliation and anger. She crossed her arms and glared at him sulkily. His laughter finally quieted and he looked at her for a moment before his face drew up in annoyance. "What?" he barked. She jumped in shock and looked at him, feeling slightly wounded.

"Nothing," she muttered back before turning and leaving the room. Clearly he didn't want her around anymore tonight.

* * *

Alucard swirled the wineglass, watching absently as the clear sides were stained a faded maroon. He leaned back in the seat and looked around the empty room with satisfaction. Now that he'd chased Seras out, he could look forward to some solitude. He felt as though he hadn't had that in so long, before this entire shitty week had happened. Still…

"Seras," he growled softly. He hated the way she always looked so wounded around him whenever he lost his patience, as if he had some sort of obligation to treat her differently than any of his other subjects. He doted on her indefinitely as it was; he would have given anything at her age for someone to look after him so dedicatedly. Still she was unsatisfied. He was already at his wit's end with her. He offered her jewels- she laughed. He promised her the world- she pushed him away. It was clear that she was unable to take his offers seriously. But he couldn't blame her for her naivety. She was still so young in the world; Ruthven was the only other lord she'd ever clapped eyes on before now.

Ruthven. His death was a shame. He had helped the man out time and time again in his life. He understood why Ruthven had opted not to go running to him for help this time, instead resolving to end his life by fighting. Ruthven had been growing drained for quite some time. Alucard hadn't understood at first- there were so many wars to be won, so much more in the world to look at. He'd even suggested that Ruthven find some human master, just to throw in the wild card like he'd done himself.

But it wasn't boredom that had Ruthven wishing for death: it was longing. Alucard remembered well when Ruthven had first decided to take a fledgling. Not many of their kind chose to take on a prodigy: even today, the act itself remains a large step in any unlife. Such an intimate act of binding two minds and souls by blood- not many have the stamina for it, and besides it takes an enormous amount of patience and sacrifice to bring up a new vampire in the world. If you do it right, that is.

Nevertheless, the slimy, sleazy Ioa had chosen to bring up a childe, and he had chosen a pretty young thing by the name of Aubrey. However, the pair was doomed from the start. Even after being married by mortal means, Aubrey was unable to be turned into a vampire. Before the process was finished, her brother stormed in and in a fit of passion unwittingly murdered his own sister.

Of course, after all was said and done a book was published and Aubrey somehow became associated with the brother's name instead of the sister, but the damage was already done. Their souls had been connected, even if only for the briefest moment. Ruthven had felt the most torturous emotional pain, and had for months been left alone in solitude. Even after he'd emerged and proclaimed his health, anyone could have seen he was never the same. Midians can't recover from such a terrible separation.

Vampires thrive on free will. Their children must be ready to fly on their own before they can willingly let go of them. To have one snatched away, for eternity or even a small period of time or distance, was horror. To have a bond so much more advanced than the average pair of souls requires much more work. Physical and mental contact is practically required, lest both parties be subject to insanity.

Alucard had never been able to fully grasp the pain that his comrade had felt until Seras had come along. He'd never meant to choose her as a fledgling until he laid eyes on her, looking so fragile and courageous as she stared down her death.

They were called together, whether by fate or other means he didn't know. He'd never even considered that his little blonde had been a gift of the God he'd abandoned so long ago. He simply didn't believe that he was worth it. But she had called out to him, and he had answered. He'd forced her into it, sure- but in his mind there was no other choice. He'd tried the roundabout way before when he'd tried to take the Englishwoman way back when. All that brought him was servitude and a throbbing pain in his hands. Instead, he took her by force. He'd been cheated out of his time twice; surely the third time was the charm.

He'd finished the job with the police girl, and he had felt it in his bones as their minds merged together easily like they'd been meant for each other. He'd never take another fledgling after this; something so personal was meant to be guarded forever. Now, he'd never give her up whether he liked it or not.

And so now he understood what a terrible agony it must have been. Just thinking about it happening to himself, even now- it made his unmoving heart flip in his chest and he had to stop himself from going to her room and holding onto her, protecting her from all the imagined dangers of the manor. And Ruthven had been longing for so long to look at his Aubrey once more- surely even in his last moments he was at peace with what was to come, be it Heaven, Hell or something else entirely.

Alucard drained his glass and sat it on the table before shaking his head slowly. He felt the need to nap, which meant that somewhere up in her room Seras was already asleep. The damned lazy girl. He felt his chest still constricting from the thought that someone was plotting to steal her away and he narrowed his eyes. Perhaps he should join her.

* * *

**Afterword: **What? No Teggerson? (Yes. I went there. It's now perfected, Ketti!) Don't worry; they'll be back next chapter. Along with Captain Ahab. _What?_ Oh, sorry. My P.R. people just told me that Captain Ahab isn't part of the Bible. Wrong Ahab, I suppose.

^_^ Ciao, Scarf-clad Ones!


	14. Panica

A slender beam of sunlight fell across Anderson's face, waking him from his light doze. Wrinkling his nose in annoyance, he opened his eyes and automatically reached across the table for his glasses. Disoriented, he looked around the room and finally remembered that he was in some Liverpool hotel. The intrusive sunlight came from the window where the room-darkening curtains had been thrown open, leaving only a sheer, translucent cover from the glass to the room. He scratched his jaw, his hand running over the rough hairs and he felt the old gnawing wish that he could just shave it all off. Sadly, his body treated a razor as if it was a sword and the pseudo-beard always grew back within the hour. _Unchanging…. _

Looking around the room again, he tried to figure out what was wrong. It was like the old newspaper games he looked at as a boy, where you saw two pictures and had to point out the differences. The first, _major_ difference was the absence of a sharp-tongued blonde woman. He looked towards the bathroom to see the door standing open and the room neat, but empty. He felt his heart drop to his stomach in panic- _I let her escape_- before he remembered that the order to take Integra hostage was a sad attempt to keep the Vatican from surrendering to one shrew's iron will. If Integra wasn't keen on running away before, she certainly wasn't going to make off when he was asleep. Finally, he caught sight of the clean carpet. The dirty clothing that had been haphazardly strewn around in their hurry to unpack was missing. The only logical explanation was that Integra had taken them down to be cleaned. He half-wondered if she had stuffed her ears before leaving. The Sirens, so far, hadn't attacked them in broad daylight, instead waiting until dawn or dusk for their maneuvers; it was always better to be safe than sorry though.

He was turning this over in his mind when the words "broad daylight" hit him like a punch in the jaw. Throwing himself over the bed, he grabbed the remote on the other end table and hit the display button on the muted TV. His jaw hit his lap when he saw the time on the digital readout- 12:45 pm. He sat back, flabbergasted. He never slept in. Alexander Anderson _never, ever _slept in. He was up before the sun, before anyone else in the orphanage. Even as a child, he wasn't allowed to laze around in bed; there were always fences to mend and cows to milk and goats to feed and besides, there weren't enough hours in the day as it was.

But it was clear that the sun had woken him up today, meaning that he was dreadfully behind. He looked around for his coat, but was unable to find it anywhere. For once, he was at a loss as to what to do. He couldn't walk around outside without a shirt or some sort of covering, and he felt that a towel wouldn't do the job right. He let his gaze travel around the room idly, resting on the blinking light on his phone. He reached for it, seeing that it was a voicemail. That in itself wasn't that big of a deal; most of the Iscariots had to call him for one reason or another and knew to leave a voicemail if he didn't answer- he had more things to do than be attached to his phone 24/7. But as he opened the caller ID and spotted the familiar number jumping out at him, he paled. _Maxwell's private line_: He was in trouble, and whatever it was, it was serious.

He hadn't spoken to Maxwell at all since he'd appealed for a marriage. Father Renaldo as well as several of the Iscariots had told him that the silver-haired archbishop had been shocked speechless before flying into one of the biggest rages anyone had ever seen. Sure, they all knew about the man's legendary one-person-screaming-match/speeches that he was apt to fly into, but this one took all the cake and the plate with it. No one dared make a false move, especially as word got round to the other Divine Secret Organizations. It was bad enough to be shamed by your main man, but even the lowest of Section XIII blushed as they heard that the _Lukes _were laughing at them. It was absolutely mortifying, being the new laughingstock of the Vatican.

Anderson knew that it wouldn't be his most popular move, but once people realized that this merger was a good thing, he was sure they'd come around. With Hellsing's occult magic and his divine powers, surely the next Regenerator would be a work of art. He could already imagine a faceless child following in his footsteps, making him more proud than he ever made his own father as he sliced down monstrous heathens in the name of God. Besides, the child would have a mother with a knack for tactical warfare so he'd already have a more than unfair advantage over uninformed creatures of the darkness.

_Speaking of the devil_, he thought as the door's electronic lock whirred and it opened to reveal a cassock clad Integra with both arms full of folded clothing. He watched as she knocked the door back with her hip and jogged to the bed before the clothes could fall out of her hands. She gave a satisfied nod before wiping imaginary dust off her hands and looking over at him as he sat in place on the other bed. They stared at each other for a long moment, not saying anything as each looked the other over slowly. Integra cleared her throat, her entire face slowly turning pink as she refused to look away.

"Why are you wearing my clothes?" he asked finally, weighing his words carefully. She clutched the heavy cloak around her tightly and pointed to a neatly folded shirt.

"Well, I had to wash that sleeping shirt and I couldn't well stand down there like _that, _could I?" she retorted and began to separate the clothing stacks between his outfits and hers. "Hang on a second and I'll get dressed so you can have it back," she said as she held up her suit jacket and pants before going back for a suitable shirt.

The implication of her words set in and Anderson almost choked. He couldn't help but think of her under that coat… _naked. _That body that was on top of him last night; the sacred robe folding over her hips and rubbing against her as she put the folded clothes away in the dresser drawers. The way it would look if she let it slide down around her pale shoulders, giving him that infuriating, maddening smile as it reached her hips… he swallowed although his mouth had turned drier than the Pope's sense of humor but he could no longer bring himself to close his eyes, instead not even bothering to get himself under control as he watched her move about the room. After long last she made her way to the bathroom with her outfit in hand and the spell was broken the minute the door shut her in. He let out a held breath and rubbed his eyes. It was getting to be too much- he was getting more involved in her than he'd like to think about.

He tried to chalk it up to the time. It had been so long since he'd last let himself think such unholy thoughts. He tried to think the girls he'd had before in his time; surely he remembered one face, one name. No, they all melded together through the nights, blurred by drunken memory and sheer multitude. If he had any thought, he ought to have thanked the Lord above that none of them had been diseased. Well, they may have well been; the Regeneration process alleviated any mortal disease he had in his human years; no STDs could exist in his body any longer. It was only one of the many blessings that this job had given him. He'd never know if his material ways would have brought about repercussions down the road.

Still, he was a man, divinely oriented or not. And she was a woman- God help him, she was a _woman. _Her hands on him last night had been curious and determined; even in her sexual innocence she was headstrong and overconfident in her own ability. He wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing or not. Not that it was bad physically; no, it had awakened things he'd thought he'd finally buried forever underneath doctrines about waiting until marriage and staying pure in thought and deed. It was more about her pigheadedness. How was he ever supposed to get her to be a submissive wife if all she had to do was seduce him into saying yes for every little thing?

"What? Aren't you going to be getting up, or were you waiting for the shower?" Her voice startled him out of his thoughts, only to see that she had emerged clean and fully dressed in her suit. He stared at the olive material for a moment before motioning her over with one hand. She hesitated, her blue eyes jumping from his hand to his face. She reached some decision and made her way to him, sitting lightly on the edge of the unmade bed. He leaned over and looked her in the eyes. They were confused and self-conscious.

"Your eyes," he muttered, and she blinked. "Your feelings are showing, Ice Queen. Why do you let me see how vulnerable you are? I could take advantage of you." He watched the astonishment and slight offense flicker through her gaze. It was fleeting however and before long a newfound confidence filled the blue depths.

"You won't," she declared. "You wouldn't do that. I know." She nodded once and placed a hand on his shoulder, over the spot where her servant had hit him. She felt the healed skin and smiled to herself. He caught the slight grin and narrowed his eyes. She had such faith in him, a Catholic- her enemy before this entire week had taken place.

Still, even in the prison she'd not been afraid for him to see the boredom or hurt or anger in her expression. She wasn't really so emotionless after all. Like him, she'd just found a way to cover up until she was around someone she trusted. The question was: when did she start trusting him? She patted his bicep comfortingly and he realized that his face must have been showing his own confusion and pensiveness. He looked up, marveling at how the way the suit broadened her shoulders and hid the curves that he knew were there. He suddenly had the desire to see her in lady's clothing- an evening dress perhaps. Something entirely indecent and practically begging to be peeled off.

"What?" He looked up, his face still close to hers and he saw his heated gaze reflected back at him in her glasses. He shook his head, leaning even closer. She didn't back away, even when his nose brushed hers. Her eyes closed and he moved in, deciding to kiss her. He did promise that he'd make a conscious effort to try, after all.

The bed vibrated and they both looked down to see the phone lighting up. Anderson sighed; he still wasn't ready to face his boss. He shouldn't have been so wary; he raised the boy, for Christ's sake. He just knew that he'd get a headache listening to the man's shouts. Still, he moved away reluctantly and picked up the phone. Integra coughed and backed up off the bed, her expression both annoyed and slightly deterred. He shrugged at her before hitting the flashing green button.

"Anderson." The voice on the other end gave a harsh exhale, saying nothing for a moment. "Hello?"

"Why did you not call me back?" the archbishop's hiss was almost spine-tingling._ He's even worse off than I thought. _

"I'm a bit busy at the moment," he said tentatively, eyeing the woman that now had her face plastered to the window as she watched the bustling street below. "I was going to wait until you could have my full attention. Listen,"

"No, you listen." Maxwell scowled at something in the background, the noise creating static among the line. "I'm halfway to England right now and I've got a lot to say to you. I'm going to be at that hotel at 6:00 sharp, and you will be down to meet me with your little _fiancée _in tow, understood?" Anderson raised an eyebrow at the man's tone, taking all his self-control into check as he fought to not yell at the over-pompous official.

"I understand, Bishop. For the record, I have a lot to say to you, too." His growling tone spoke of a fight for the ages. "See you then." He slammed the end-call button with his thumb, almost bending the casing in two. He threw it onto the table and stood, gathering his own outfit from the still-open drawer. "Maxwell's going to be here at 6:00. I guess he'll be bringing that money for us, at least."

"You don't sound too happy about that," Integra said. She didn't turn from the window, but her hands moved to clasp behind her back. He walked over to her, looking over her shoulder at the people milling about the sidewalks.

"I'm not looking forward to it, that's for sure."

* * *

Seras tapped her toes on the edge of the balcony, leaning over as far as she could with her arms outstretched. She was balancing on her stomach at that point, but she wasn't going to let the heavy pillar go no matter what. It was her fault it had fallen, anyway. Well, more so her masters, but he had only punched it because he was angry with her. Better stone than her face, or so Walter said. The butler was currently giving Alucard his two sense about the whole matter; she could see the furious look on the vampire's face, but he made no move to leave the scene. Almost as if he heard her thoughts, she felt his gaze rest on her and she sent him a defiant look. She hadn't even done anything wrong this time.

"Miss _Victoria!" _Seras jumped back to reality and saw Walter frowning up at her. "Did you hear me?"

"No, sorry. What did you need?" she asked politely as she let the pillar go. It fell the last few remaining inches to the ground where it hit with a rumble but didn't shatter. Walter shook his head good-naturedly and pointed to the door.

"I said that if you still were going out, you had better do it before sunrise."

"Oh, really!" she looked at the sky through foyer window, which was beginning to lighten considerably. "Yes, you're right." She flipped herself on over the balcony railing, landing without a sound beside the stone pillar and bounding forwards to hug the old man. "Thanks," she whispered in his ear. He nodded and patted her back affectionately before pushing her in the direction of the door. She passed by the still-fuming Alucard and considered the man for a moment before sticking out her tongue and continuing out the door.

It wasn't fair that he was trying to keep her inside. She had a life, too. Besides, she was out of her favorite shampoo. It would take no more than five minutes at most to run to the store and get more, but now that he pitched such a big fit about it, she was going to take at least a half-hour. That would give the poor soldiers time to clean up the basement anyway. _Stupid Master. He's going to pay me back for breaking my table! _

_Oh, am I? _The cold tone bit into her mind and she hurried her pace, half-wondering if he would bother to chase her down. Surely he couldn't be _that _angry that she was leaving. She was coming right back!

_What's your problem? _She whined as she made her way through the front gates. _I know that someone could pick it up for me, but I want to get out and stretch my legs! I hate being locked away in that stuffy old house all the time. It's nice to see the sights. _She felt his wrath in her mind and shook her head, as if it that would dispel the overwhelming pressure mounting in her ears. _Leave me alone, please! _She broke into a jog, taking the long path around the mansion to get to the main road.

_Oh, don't worry. I'm not coming after you, _he admitted with a dark chuckle. _No, I'll be waiting right here for you to come back. _Seras wracked her mind and decided that he was probably angrier with her for being a disobedient little bitch and ratting him out to Walter for trying to make her stay behind. Jeez, she wasn't his kid sister- she was a grown woman and if she wanted to go out, she'd go out!

_I'm not scared of you. _She wasn't lying; she could take anything he dished out. She had before and she'd do it again. Break a few bones? Child's play. Snap her spinal cord with one kick? Yawn. She sniffed and waved her hand. She shouldn't have to be fearing her master's rage every time she made a decision. That's what parents were for, and he _wasn't _her parent.

She felt his fury rise at the jab and slowed back to a walk, throwing her hair back. It was high time that he realized she wasn't a little dog to order around. She was a _vampire _now. Humans were for ordering. Something about Ruthven made her start thinking about that. He died for her like a vampire, fighting to the last minute. Something was after her, and it wasn't pretty or holy or even frightening. It was terrifying and dangerous; something that would target a vampire. It was time for Seras Victoria to stop cowering around like a human. She'd never make her master proud that way.

She didn't bother to listen to see if he'd reply to that. She had reached the main road and looked both ways carefully like Walter had instructed her. She had to make sure no humans were around before she started running. The coast was clear and she gathered her energy into one burst before taking off. The sound behind her was like a sonic bang before she slowed enough to adapt a loping gait down the asphalt. It was much faster than humans could ever see, and she jumped over and around speeding cars as though they were ladybugs. She felt like laughing as she ran; the moon was almost new, it's light only a sliver but she could still see clearly as she sprinted along. It was always during these times that she felt free, unrestricted. She could forget about her duties and worries, instead focusing on the wind in her hair and the pull and push of muscles that would never burn with exhaustion again.

_Exhilarating, isn't it? _The sneer caught up in her mind but she disregarded it, knowing that it was just petty jealousy. Unlike her _he _had to stay locked up in the manor like a naughty child, unable to leave except under strict orders. Even then, he wasn't given the liberty of running around freely. She had been debating whether to ask Sir Integra if he could accompany her sometimes, under the clause that she kept an eye on him and not let any casualties arise. She didn't' know if he'd want to go run errands with her, even if it was approved. _He'd probably enjoy it more if he knew he was doing it without permission,_ she thought wryly. The answering laugh in her mind confirmed her theory.

She reached London's borders and slowed down to a human's pace, walking up to the store at its edge as she always did. She waved hello to the pimple-faced boy behind the counter before running back to the back to grab her shampoo. She hesitated before getting some matching conditioner and smiled as she carried both bottles to the checkout. She hadn't used conditioner in years, but it would be nice to have soft hair for once. She checked out and was walking out with her bag when she noticed a strangely dressed young man in the parking lot.

He had shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair that shimmered under the streetlight as he looked down the road towards the bright lights of downtown. His face was youthful and very handsome, as well as clean-shaven. He was wearing what looked like a Halloween costume; bright, exotic, and poufy with a scabbard hanging loosely from the cinched waistband. He looked like a rainbow Musketeer. In his hand he held a folded map and was looking at it in confusion. At the sight of her, he waved her over desperately. Seras paused before deciding that it was alright. It was a well-lit area and the boy inside was only steps away if she needed help. Besides, it was only a human. What harm could he do? He looked lost.

"Yes?" she said in a friendly manner as she made her way over. The boy's eyes were hidden by his long bangs, which had fallen into his face as he stared down at the map. He smiled in return and pointed at the map before chattering something quickly to himself in French.

"Hello there. I seem to be lost; is this the road that takes you to Oxford Street downtown? I thought I was heading the right way, but it looks like I left the city by mistake," he explained in a lilting accent. "It's my first time in England, you see," he added with a chuckle. Seras laughed indulgently and looked over at the map.

"Well, here's your problem- this map is way too old. You're going to have to get a newer one." She turned to point to the store. "You can get one in there, and it'll have routes marked on the map in colors to show you the way to go." She turned back to see him brushing his hair out of his eyes. He opened them to reveal a dark burgundy gaze. She froze in confusion as he grinned widely, his fangs showing.

"Thank you, Cher. That clears up so much. However, I think it would be best if you accompanied me. You see, I wouldn't want to let the girls down. They were looking forward to this trip."

"Girls?" Seras still didn't understand until her mind caught the scent in the air. It was the same scent as the night before- putrid and sickly sweet with something, as if whoever it was had been rolling in sugar and silage before arriving. She turned to the source of the scent before her mind blanked in pure horror. The man looked around her and smiled.

"Ah, come here girls. Meet your newest sister." They weren't human. They weren't mortal. Seras wasn't even sure if they could be classified as demonic. Ghouls would have won beauty pageants compared to these… these _abominations _of nature.

It was hard to tell that these were once human girls. They had no noses, the holes where they would have been already closed over with skin. The skin itself was almost like a mask- it was cracked in places and chipping off in others, revealing thick black brain matter on their heads and dry-rotted organs and muscles on their bodies. What hair they had left was dead and dirty, stringy and hanging lank around their face. There were no eyes to speak of, only black tissue filled voids that were chapped and oozing around the edges. Their mouths were twisted in cruel parodies of smiles, the teeth yellowed and broken, some even rotted completely. They all wore the same thin cloth covering, almost like a summer shift without any form to it whatsoever. It hid little from view, although their sunken chests and thin appendages weren't appealing. They were all making noise, not moaning per say; but thick, barely audible chirping noises that sounded like a gurgling bird. It filled her ears and she backed up thoughtlessly into the Frenchman's arms.

"See? They like you already. Those are their happy noises. You'll learn them all soon enough; now, let's get back to Hungary with you and present you to Madame." Seras balked, kicking at the Girls and flailing her arms as he grabbed her in a chokehold. She caught sight of his exposed wrist and bit hard, hearing his snarl of pain in satisfaction as the bones crunched beneath her teeth. She sprang away from him, looking once at his army of creatures as they made anxious trills, their mouths slack as they waited for an order. She spit out his blood- it tasted _too _sweet for her, and it was mixed with something dry and evil-tasting that was completely undesirable to her palate. "Fucking bitch," he swore as he clutched his crushed wrist, looking at it as he inhaled sharply. She smirked and flipped her hair, feeling her eyes widen as she prepared to fight.

"That's what you get for trying to take advantage of a vampire that's stronger than you are. I'm a Draculina; did you really think that you'd have a chance against me, little boy?" she sneered, feeling her master's blood sing in her veins and pride course through her. He was nothing compared to her. He let out a breathy chuckle and nodded in acknowledgment at the words, giving her a slight grin before shrugging. His eyes narrowed and he snapped with his good hand.

"_Obtenir son, râle!_" he crowed and the Girls sprang on her immediately, their teeth snapping as they covered her in their stench. She gasped as they managed to pin her down- they were stronger than they looked, for being slaves. She struggled and twisted in their grasp, looking up at the Frenchman walked over and smiled down at her. He tilted his head, studying her body with interest. "Madame said to get you there alive, but that doesn't have to mean intact." He stepped lightly on her ankle, testing the weight before snapping it with one solid stomp. She arched, screaming once before groaning as the pain worked its way through her system. The Frenchman leered at her, closing his eyes. "Ah, what a scream. I can tell already that Madame will enjoy you especially." He made a motion and the Girls picked her up, carrying her down the darkened street. "Now, we really should be going. It looks as though dawn's already on the way."

Seras renewed her efforts to escape with more panic. She didn't half-understand why she was so terrified. It wasn't the thought of being kidnapped and carried to a foreign place- no, that was horrifying as it was, but there was something thrumming in her blood that told her this whole thing was just _bad. _They were carrying her across the ocean, far away from her master and England. She felt her heart clench in dread: what if she couldn't get back? What if the link between her and Alucard couldn't last that far? It would stretch and snap and she'd be all alone again, just like she was before. She couldn't bear such a thought! She'd die from it, she was sure of it! She screamed like a banshee, writhing around and cracking her own bones in an effort to get away, all the time calling for her master. He had to come save her, or they both were doomed!

To her relief, the shadows around them elongated and snared the Girls, forcing them upwards with a thickening crunch before dragging their bodies into the ground and under it. Seras fell to the ground, cushioned by swirling shadows. She lay back into them, comforted beyond words. He wasn't going to let them steal her. She was just fine. She heard the Frenchman curse and gasp and opened her eyes to see his face drained of all color as he stared behind her.

"Ma-Madame," he sputtered in fear, looking as though he were going to piss himself. "The Dark Prince," he murmured before his eyes hardened and he braced himself. Suddenly, his simply… disappeared. Seras caught the glimpse of a jewel-encrusted, slender hand as it grabbed his scabbard and seemed to pull him into himself, vanishing with a pop and leaving only silence. But that was the least of her worries at the moment.

She began to sob, the reality of the situation finally catching up with her. _Stupid _girl, they almost ruined her existence forever, although for the life of her she couldn't imagine why she knew it was so. It was one of those more instinctual things that she had learned to just take for granted, like breathing or eating. She felt a presence over her and looked up through her tears to see her master taking off his glasses, his eyes dark with anger. She tried to calm down enough to sound coherent.

"I promise, I won't go out by myself again," she blubbered, trying to sit up and look at her broken ankle. She knew he would heal her, but it was going to hurt like hell doing it. She whimpered as she felt his power course within her through the shadows around her body and heal the cracks in her bones, jerking her ankle back into proper position before healing that as well. "I promise," she repeated quietly, wiping the tears off her cheeks.

He said nothing but wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close with their torsos touching. She murmured in security, burying her face into his vest as she let his reassurance wash over her. "They weren't human," she muttered into his chest.

"No, not anymore," he agreed.

"They tried to take me away from you." She began to shiver; was she really that close? It was maddening, the terror she'd felt erupting into torture in her mind. She'd never have survived on her own, not yet. She felt his arms tighten around her.

"I know." His arms left her and he took off his coat, wrapping her up in it before picking her up like a child, the same way he'd done the night he changed her. "Don't worry yourself; it won't happen again." She sniffed and nodded, resting her head on his shoulder as he began to walk back in the direction of Hellsing. She saw the shadows coming too, her forgotten grocery bag bobbing in them like a bottle in water.

"I'm sorry," she said, the tears slowly abiding. She looked up at him as he walked; he was watching the road ahead, but his mind was still entangled with hers. For once, she didn't mind his intrusion on her psyche. It was a sort of solace to her; they were still attached.

"I forgive you," he finally replied.

"Will you sleep with me today?" she asked. She didn't want him to leave her for a while. Her heart was still constricted with fear and she worried. What if he managed to find a way into the manor, into her room and have his Girls carry away her coffin in the daylight? It'd never happen, of course. Walter and the men were there, but she still wanted something more.

"Yes," he breathed out slowly. "Now rest, little Seras." She smiled in contentment and lay her head back on his shoulder. It was going to be alright, she was going to be fine. Her master would never let anyone bother her.

_Thank you, _her mind whispered to his. It said something else too, something that she didn't catch as she dropped off into an exhausted stupor, but he heard it loud and clear. Although he'd known it- known it for some time, in fact- it still shocked him to the point of stopping dead in the road and almost being hit by a Volkswagen. _I love you._

* * *

"Ahab." The man pointed his bony finger, almost knocking Anderson's glasses askew. "You are Ahab. Going off with that Jezebel, making your whore's children,"

"Don't. Call. Her that," Anderson managed to growl, his knuckles white on his knees and he clenched his legs. It was either that, or wrap them around the archbishop's scrawny neck. "I raised you better, boy. Don't mess with me," he added. Maxwell started to develop a tic in his eye and he visibly shook.

"You dare. You _dare _call me a child? I am no longer your ward, Paladin! I am your boss, your superior, and you will listen to me!" he shrieked. Anderson stood, happy for once of his enormous stature as it let him tower over the slender man. He pointed one broad finger at the holy man's chest, using every intimidating bone he had.

"You listen to me, boy. If you'd stop to think, you'd see how prudent of a match this was. We get a merger with the Protestant Church's best defense against monstrous creatures, and we get the ultimate fighter! Can you imagine how amazing it would be? We would finally be a complete defense!" Maxwell gaped like a fish for a moment before shaking his head.

"I don't like it; it's against everything you ever taught me," he said in a calmer tone. "But I can't deny the request on that basis alone. Technically, there's no reason you can't marry her. But think about it, Father." He looked up at the man, and Anderson softened as he saw the little boy he'd raised come out of the grown man's hardened shell. "Is this what you think is best, or is this what you want? We have to think of the greater good here, for both of us. For Iscariot, for His Holiness." Anderson put a hand on the man's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"It's both. I do want this, now. The more I think about it, the better off it sounds. And this is what is best, for everyone. Love thy neighbor, Maxwell. Or at least try to tolerate them, huh? It could be worse. She could be a full-blooded heathen." He smiled, but it dropped away when he saw the conflicted look in the man's indigo gaze.

"I can't. I just… God forgive me, but I can't love her. Love them." Maxwell turned away to the wall, placing a fist on it and banging softly. The two men remained silent for a long time, the sounds of a piano echoing from beyond the closed door. Maxwell shook his head and let out a heavy breath. "I can't. I'm sorry." He turned to look at his mentor. "But if you can, I believe you. You are a better man than I, in some ways. That I can admit." Anderson nodded and Maxwell went to open the door, showing the paladin out before him.

They were in a simple cathedral, one that Renaldo had chosen for the marriage license to be signed in and the simple ceremony to be held the day after tomorrow. Maxwell had wanted to meet privately with Anderson, having a thirty minute heated argument with him. Integra was probably wondering what was taking so long, he decided. However, when they entered the main foyer they found Renaldo being the one at the piano, with Integra sitting beside him and singing softly. She wasn't the best singer, but her voice was sweet and softer than he'd ever heard it before. He looked down to see Maxwell staring at the piano before gritting his teeth and assuming a look of polite neutralism. When she finished, they both applauded. Integra jumped and looked over at them, her cheeks flushing slightly before her own mask slid into place and she became the emotionless woman once more.

"I trust everything's in place then?" she asked as she followed Renaldo past them. Maxwell said nothing and Anderson only nodded as she slid past and went with the priest into the room they'd just vacated. Father Renaldo would explain all of her duties as a wife and answer any questions that she had, before doing the same for him. Anderson wondered if she'd fight the elderly man, but only time would tell as he went to sit down at the piano to pass the time.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, then. Those Girls are something else. Do you remember Scary Stories to Read in the Dark or something like that? Those creepy-ass pictures of that one girl on the cover? Yeah. I used that as a reference, because frankly it scared me as a kid. That's why I need therapy.


	15. Sortarea Diferențele Noastre

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry for all the Bible talk, but it is time to be married and Father Renaldo is in charge of preparing the two… willing parties in their new duties. I promise that I cut it as much as I could to save your eyes from dying as they read 20 pages of Bible verses in what was supposed to only be a fanfiction.

In an unrelated story; Juju went bowling for the first time in years (yes, my name on the scoreboard was Juju. That's my technical unofficial nickname now, it seems.) And I won two out of the three games! While singing "Wrecking Ball" in the most horrible voice ever (because I was wrecking it. Like Wreck-It-Ralph. IMMA WRECK IT)!

* * *

Integra sat quietly at the table, feeling as though she were about to be in for a big talking-to. Across from her, the elderly priest sat with Bible in hand. She watched his mustache move with every breath and relaxed slightly as he smiled at her. He seemed to be a kindly sort of person. As if sensing her trepidation, he laid the Bible on the table off to one side and clasped his hands.

"Miss Hellsing, I am not just a priest that happens to work for Vatican Section XIII," he began with a deep breath. "I am solely in charge of the agents' mental and spiritual well-being, and I have the Psychology degree to prove it." He chuckled at the woman's astonished expression. "Why so surprised? Don't I look like some old Freudian-follower?"

"I'm just trying to decide why all the Church would need to employ a psychotherapist." Father Renaldo smiled sadly and scratched the side of his cheek as he thought. After a moment, he licked his lips.

"I'm trying to put this delicately, but…. These agents see things in their chosen professions that would send anyone insane. It's my job to keep them mentally balanced. Also, some carry baggage from their pre-Christian life that is hard for them to bear. I help them with that. I even help with marriages, as you already know." He sighed. "Sometimes, agents find it hard to adjust the line between work and home, and their marriage suffers for it. I can help them find common ground with their spouses."

"I see." Father Renaldo laughed again and pulled the Bible to the center of the table again.

"My job's a bit easier with you, since you understand how stressful monster-hunting can be at times. But nevertheless, I am here for you if you ever need to talk. I really want to be there to help you- I'm sure you have your own burdens that you carry."

"I'm fine," Integra snapped. She immediately felt bad for sounding so harsh, especially after the old man just offered his help. "I- well, what I meant to say was that I have my own ways of relieving stress." The priest nodded and flipped the worn book open, holding it up in his hands.

"Well, the offer stands all the same. Now, let me get through the important, formal things so that you and I can have time to chat about your… misgivings. Listen carefully, Miss Hellsing. I'm here to prepare you for your new role as a wife and, hopefully a mother." He cleared his throat and Integra nodded, leaning forward slightly. "The Bible tells us about the Lord's expectations of a wife. To God, a wife is a beautiful treasure that man shouldn't take lightly. "A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies", says Proverbs chapter 31." Integra blushed deeply and fingered the ring on her thumb as the priest arched a brow. "Is something wrong?"

"No! Um, no. Carry on." The mustache ruffled with a sharp exhale and he picked up the book again, continuing his lecture. "Yes, the wife's expectations are many. She's the head of the household, subservient only to her husband. She commands the servants, the children, and the workers. Her duties are many, and she must bear them accordingly. But she is not alone, because she has her husband to hold her up." He sniffed and turned to another page.

"Woman and man were meant to come together in the eyes of the Lord, to prevent sexual immorality." Integra turned a mortified shade of pink and the priest hid his smile behind his book. It was always fun to read this part, and see even the hardest of Iscariots blush like schoolchildren in Health class. "For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does." So says Corinthians chapter 7." He closed the book with a soft thud.

"All in all, you are expected to respect, honor, and submit to your husband. Naturally, love will come into it if you let it. You must make an effort to spend time alone with your spouse, and talk to him. Let him know about problems so that you can work them out. You are a team now, one unit in the eyes of God. You cannot win alone anymore." Father Renaldo pushed the Bible away and rested his elbows on the table. "Now, Anderson tells me that you have issues with being the subservient party. Why is it so hard to be compliant? He's your spouse; you should be happy to let him be assertive."

"It's quite frankly none of your business. I'm the boss, I always have been." Integra crossed her arms, feeling like a scolded child. He had no right to command her to be some meek little housewife. "I don't cower, and I certainly don't let other people take control of what's mine."

"But it's no longer yours anymore." He held out his hands imploringly. "I want you to stop thinking singularly. It's no longer "I", "me", and "mine". It's now "we", "us", "our". Think of it as a business merger of sorts, only more intimate."

"Not really," Integra muttered. Father Renaldo smiled knowingly.

"Ah. I see you've already come across Anderson's aversion to intimacy. That is his weak point, just as a fear of not being in charge is yours."

"I'm not _afraid _of losing control. I just don't want bad things to happen!" Integra countered. The father's eyes widened and she bit her lip. Where had _that_ come from?

"So you believe that if you hand over the reins, something bad will happen. Why do you think this?" The priest waited patiently as she squirmed in the seat, trying to think of a way to save the situation. But it was already far beyond her control; a marionette being pulled around by a mustached man with a psychology degree.

"The last time," she started and grumbled angrily before continuing. "The last time I- was not the superior, I almost died. I really don't want to set myself up like that again." Father Renaldo nodded.

"I understand. Can you tell me what happened during that incident? Take as much time as you need." Integra groaned under her breath, trying to keep the numbing hurt that always surfaced from _those_ memories from floating up to the forefront of her mind.

"When my father died, he left me in charge of the estate. My uncle came after me with a gun 3 days later, the day of Father's funeral, and shot me. If it wasn't for Alucard being there to save me, I would have died that day. I was too afraid of standing up for myself at the time anyway- I was always taught to be polite and respectful of my elders, especially Uncle Richard. Look at what being docile got me; a bullet scar and a healthy heaping of nightmares." She shrugged off her jacket and showed him the pale scar on her upper right arm. Father Renaldo nodded and when she was resettled, he reached over to pat her hand comfortingly.

"I know that the entire incident must have frightened you greatly. Tell me, how old were you when this happened?" Integra frowned at the icy, anemic palm resting on hers but didn't move away.

"I was thirteen," she replied curtly.

"A young, pliable age. Of course you would have combined your knowledge of being compliant with the fear of death. I imagine that when you're not in control you feel helpless and anxious, right? Perhaps you even become highly nervous and upset when someone begins to give orders, instead of you being in charge." Integra didn't answer, instead looking around the room and avoiding the gray eyes that were focused on her. The man sighed and his hand retreated back across the table after a long, silent moment. "I want you to start trying for me, please."

"Trying what?" Integra looked suspiciously at him, her heart jumping slightly in her chest.

"I want you to start putting yourself in situations that make you feel that helplessness, that uncomfortable sense of anxiety. Don't let it get too overwhelming, but when Anderson gives you an order, stop for a moment before you fight him. Think about it. If he says to you, "Let's go", what will happen if you just follow him? Is the world going to end?"

"Of course not, but-" Father Renaldo held up a hand.

"No, no "buts". Let him order you around for a bit. If he says "I want you to go over there", then do it without a word. But promise me that when it becomes too much for you, talk to him. Tell him that you feel overwhelmed." He smiled. "Remember, you don't have to be this way for everyone. You're still the boss; the woman is the neck of the household, isn't that what the saying is? You only have to answer to one person. Can't you make that sacrifice, for the sake of happiness?"

"I don't- I'm not sure if…." Integra clenched her hands on the table. "I don't know."

"Just try it for me. And remember, he's got to be part of this too. He has to remember that he isn't allowed to take advantage of all this. You are submitting to him freely, but there _is _a line. That's where communication plays a key part. Understand?"

"I understand," Integra answered, for lack of anything else to say. That tiny voice in her head was chirping again; _You can do it. It's only one man. Think of it as a challenge! _

"Good! Now we can stop talking about your faults- it's time for me to ask something more of you, if you don't mind."

"I suppose I have no choice but to say yes?" Integra asked. The priest smiled and shrugged.

"Well, I suppose you're right. Let's talk about Anderson." Integra sat silently, not sure what he meant. What, was she supposed to tell him what she thought of him? After a pensive moment, Father Renaldo spoke.

"Do you know that when I first met Father Anderson, I was a young man? I was barely out of college and in the world. I came to the Vatican to work, and he was already working at the orphanage at the time. The year was 1959. And while I've grown old and feeble, Anderson hasn't changed all that much." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Really, how time flies. 40 whole years."

"Interesting," Integra agreed. "It makes me wonder how old Alexan-Father Anderson really is." Father Renaldo reached into the briefcase he'd brought with him and pulled out a plain manila folder. He handed it to her.

"I thought you may ask something along those lines. So I brought his official file for you to see. He's going to see the one we have on you that Hellsing graciously faxed to us. It's perfectly normal to be curious," he added as she opened the file hesitantly. She looked at the young soldier's picture attached to the stack of paperwork. His eyes stared up at her seriously from the likeness, his mouth set into a neutral frown. She flipped the picture aside, only to have her jaw drop at the date written painstakingly onto a copied Bible page. **Births: Alexander Anderson: born April 30, 1919. **Quickly calculating the math, she almost choked. _He's over 85 years old! _She turned the page to see a draft record and death certificate paperclipped together. According to official records, Alexander Anderson died on September 15, 1949. "1949…"she muttered.

"Yes, that's the day the Vatican recruited him for a potential Regenerator. He was a 30-year-old soldier who had seen more than enough horror to last five lifetimes. He was one of the ones in charge of clearing the abandoned concentration camps of corpses and documenting the gas chambers and crematoriums; that sort of thing, you see."

"I see." She turned back to stare at the picture at the front once more. His eyes were cold as steel, though she could still see the well-hidden weariness in his gaze.

"Afterwards, I'm told he asked to be in charge of the orphanage in between missions. The surviving children in the concentration camps loved him, so the Vatican agreed. But he's had problems with adapting to being close to adults, especially women. I've talked to him about it before, and I've come to the conclusion that it's his own personal fear of relapse."

"Relapse?"

"Yes. Before he turned to God, Paladin Anderson wasn't the most… idyllic person. He was wild and jumped from place to place, even after being drafted. And there were many women, I am told. He has taken it to mind that if he familiarizes himself with drink, cigarettes or even a woman, he's sinning and will eventually relapse into the den of iniquity that he had inhabited before. I'm working on him with this, slowly but surely."

"I think I understand," Integra acknowledged as the man's own words came to her mind like a summons. _It was Satan's life, and I foolishly reveled in my materialistic greed. _

"I ask you this: be patient with him. It may be hard, but I believe he'll come around in the end." Father Renaldo stood, walking by her and placing one hand on her shoulder. He squeezed slightly before motioning for her to stand. "That's all for now, which I'm guessing relives you a bit, hmm? Let's return."

* * *

_Thousands of gnashing teeth and tearing claws pulled at her skin, dragging her in different directions. At her feet, the blonde boy laughed maliciously as he held up the book on Elizabeth Báthory. The image on the book laughed too, her face a distorted mask. She fought against them, crying as they bent down to look at her and their oozing brain tissue hit her face with a thick splat. _

Seras jerked up in the bed, screaming and rubbing at the imagined mess on her face as she began to sob. She trembled in fear and began to rub her arms, trying to dispel the nightmare. It was horrible, and she only wanted to sleep. Even as she tried to stop shaking, strong hands pulled her back down to where she lay against her master's chest. He sighed deeply and held her, unintentionally squeezing her arm hard enough to bruise.

"What am I going to do with you? I've already told you, there's no one here to harm you, now go to sleep." Seras pulled herself away from him, hiding her face in the corner of the coffin and letting the tears fall.

"They are here. You should know that better than anyone. They may not be real, but they're still _here_. In here," she admitted as she rubbed her head. There was no answer, but insisting hands pulled her back across the mattress again and she sighed as her arms gained another set of bruises. She was dead tired, and for once she wished that he would leave her to face her nightmares alone. She was already regretting her plea for him to sleep with her.

Cool fingers wiped her wet cheeks and firmly turned her head around. She looked up at him as he pushed himself up and over her, his eyes meeting hers. She watched his pupils contract and her mind began to feel fuzzy.

"Sleep, Seras." Yes, she should sleep. It was so easy to do, and she loved obeying her master, didn't she? "Dream of nothing." Nothing, nothing at all. That wasn't so hard. Besides, the coffin was warm and cozy and she had him there to protect her from bad girls and boys that tried to- what did they try to do? She couldn't remember. Her mind was too hazy; it felt like she'd stuck her head in a pile of wool. Her ears were ringing, the sound like church bells and ocean waves. She should obey him. She should…. "Sleep, my dear. Be refreshed." Yes…. Sleep…dear….

The blonde's unfocused eyes drooped shut and her head lolled to the side as her breathing stopped entirely. The ancient vampire looked at her, his mind feeling her delta waves rolling choppily, but steadily as they were being forced to do. She'd dream of nothing, and wake up revitalized. He, on the other hand, would have to make do with what little sleep he could pull off. He couldn't hypnotize himself; he'd tried, but it hadn't worked and he'd only felt a little foolish.

He sighed and rested his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes. Time enough for thinking when the sun set.

* * *

_Ambrose sat with his knees pulled to his chin as he sunk into the soft bed. _

"_I've never been so humiliated in all my existence. How dare she- what, she's only one little girl! How did she even manage to mark me, and then distract me enough to allow her sire to kill twelve of our best Girls!?" His creator's cool hand brushed the hair from his face and she showered him with relieved kisses as she stroked his newly healed wrist. _

"_Shh, don't be so hard on yourself. I warned you that Vlad wasn't one to fool with. It's only natural that his fledgling is as strong as you. He's a powerful man, and you were stealing away what was his. I'm only thankful that I was able to pull enough of my power together to grab you before he did away with you, too." She rubbed her forehead against his cheek, sniffing with real tears this time. "I was so afraid when you called me. I felt it; the madness was threatening to overpower me once more." _

"_I know, Madame. I'm sorry for frightening you," the boy conceded. "But still, I now have a new grudge against this little Englishwoman. I want to hear her plead for mercy beneath my boots." His hands tightened into fists and he buried his face into his knees. "It's just not fair." The Countess clucked sympathetically and rubbed his shoulders. _

"_One day, I'm sure we can make it happen. Right now, we still need to focus on our bigger plan. And I-what is it?!" she growled as a Girl entered the room. "Can't you see that I'm having a moment with my darling childe?!" Ambrose looked up, not having smelt the rotten odor that usually hung around the Girls. He laughed when he saw the intruder. _

"_So, you made a new one? I guess we do need to get the ranks back up," he joked. "I thought the dungeons might start to get a bit under-packed." He eyed the sunken eyeballs and five missing fingers as the Girl shuffled over with something in her left hand. "Why did you take off her fingers? She won't be able to hold much when the decaying sets in." The Countess tittered. _

"_Well, she kept trying to undo her bonds and I just couldn't have that at all. I did warn her, but she just kept crying so I cut out her tongue, too." She motioned to the newly-formed creature. "Isa darling, please say hello to my Ambrose. He's going to be watching after you." The Girl looked at him and tried to speak, but a gurgling, throaty sound came out instead. Ambrose wrinkled his nose as a trail of congealed blood began to snake down the Girl's chin. _

"_I hate it when they're like this, before the putrefying part happens. It's still so messy. At least when she looks like the others the sludge just rolls off quickly instead of smearing." Nevertheless, the boy pulled a worn kerchief from his shirt and lovingly wiped the blood off the Girl's face. "There we go, my pretty little thing. We need to keep that white skin of yours as clean as possible, don't we?" The Girl made a sound and he nodded as if she'd made sense._

"_Oh, Ambrose, it's so nice to see how well you treat those Girls. I just don't have that sort of patience." The Countess pulled a fan from her breasts and snapped it open, fanning herself languidly. "What does she have in her hand?" Ambrose frowned, the edges of his mouth pulling down and making him look like a sad Greek god. _

"_Come here, sweet-Isa, was it? What have you got for us?" he treated the Girl like a small child, motioning her over and she handed him the silver gun with a slow groan. He hummed and turned the pistol over in his hand, looking at it with a discerning eye. "Where did this come from, now?" The Girl appeared to answer, but of course it was entirely incomprehensible. However, Ambrose sniffed the metal and looked up in surprise. "Why, the Sirens brought it to the castle! I wonder where it's from." _

"_Go interrogate them; I'm curious too. And put Isa away while you're at it. With the others in cage 8- Amanda or Ariel or Abigail- whatever that last one's name was." She lay back on her velvet pillows, a dainty hand on her forehead. "I do believe my weakness is coming upon me again," she whimpered faintly. "Leave me for now, Ambrose. I must rest, or my sickness will return."_

_Ambrose stood with a bow to obey his new orders. "Rest now, and feel better soon." He placed a hand on the small of the Girl's back, leading her out the door. He led the mumbling, shuffling creature down the halls to the dungeon, talking to her comfortingly as he went. _

"_It's alright, Isa. I take good care of you Girls. I hate it that she keeps you locked up, but she's Madame, after all and I have to obey everything that she says. But I'll never forget your name; I don't forget anyone's names. You're going into Cage 8- with Alana, Beatrice, and Olive. It's actually pretty empty, because the other twelve occupants are dead now. I suppose we can forget about them. It's my fault they're dead- no. It's that Victoria's fault. She killed the Girls. Not I." He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked a heavy iron door, leading the Girl inside. The over packed cages were milling with Girls, at least twenty to a cage, which lined the walls. They looked up in fright before relaxing at the sight of Ambrose. _

_He knew that many of the other people, his creator included, thought that they were mindless beings. But he __**knew **__them - he looked after them, cared for them, talked to them, cleaned the cages and wiped the sludge off their faces as it oozed from their broken eyes. He would come in when he couldn't sleep and read to them to keep them calm, and he fed them and made sure that they behaved. He spoke to them like people and he usually could understand them, or at least comprehend the nature of their chirps and trills. In return, it was always nice to see the little signs of affection they carried for him; some strange, demonic form of Stockholm syndrome, he was sure but it didn't matter- they were __**his **__Girls, the only beings beside the Countess that ever showed him any sort of love in his long, tiring existence. _

_He walked the Girl down to the last cage on the block, laughing and patting the hands away as they pulled out of the bars and tugged his clothing lightly, seeking attention. He opened the cage and stepped inside. He was the only one who was safe when it came to being in the same area as the Girls. Sure, they obeyed the Countess and her husband, but they could turn at any time. _

"_Alana, Beatrice, Olive! I have some good news- here's a new sister for you!" he called cheerily as he released his grip on the creature. The other Girls swarmed around her, making curious noises and pulling on her hair and shift before wrapping their arms around her in a broken parody of a hug. The Girl moaned and went over to the food trough, where a thick, cold soup of rat parts had been laid out earlier. She stuck her head in and began to slurp the meal. Ambrose moved around the Girls, checking their water and refuse buckets before nodding to himself and letting Beatrice stroke his hair. He gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead, ignoring the ever-present stench of decomposition as he patted her shoulder. "There's a good girl. Now, you be nice to Isa, and make her feel welcome, okay?" He waved as he locked them back into the cage and began to make his rounds while he was down there, talking to all the Girls as he checked their food and water. He pulled two of the refuse buckets and emptied them down the drainage hole before moving on through another door. _

_This one was much louder- the live tank, he liked to think of it as. The human girls were all crying and screaming, begging to be released. He walked past them, peering into the cages and avoiding their hands. He hated the humans; they weren't restrained and lovable like the Girls were. They tried to scratch him and bite him and beg for their escape, but he took heart to the fact that it was only a matter of time before this filthy human scum would be a true part of his Madame's collection, and he could truly enjoy them. He filled up the food troughs and checked the water bins before noting the three dead girls in cage 4. He'd have to get someone to take care of that. Sighing, he left the room and the silence rang in his ears as he made his way up to the surface to "interrogate" the Siren that had brought the gun._

* * *

Anderson flipped through the folder and paused as a picture of a young Integra smiled up at him, surrounded by a younger looking butler and older men.

"Where's her mother? She's not in any of these pictures." Father Renaldo nodded.

"Yes, her mother was dead not long after Integra was born. She's spent her whole life growing up in a men's world." Anderson looked up at him and humphed as he closed the folder and slid it back across the table. Father Renaldo placed it out of the way and coughed politely. "I believe that's part of her "problem", as you put it earlier. She's always known how to be around men and speak their language but without having a maternal figure in her life, she's never known how to act the part. Now that she's faced with the prospect of being a wife- a womanly role – she has no idea how to cope or act. This is a cause of anxiety for her, because when she feels helpless like that she feels as though she's not in control. This causes her to act out and become defiant in an effort to recreate some sort of balance."

"So tha's the excuse you've made for her?" Anderson said lightly, tapping one finger on the table. He never enjoyed being forced into one of Father Renaldo's "sessions". They only made him more uptight, rather than relaxed. "So what am I supposed to do then?"

"I want you to work on rewording your orders. Instead of, for instance, you saying to her, "I want you to", ask it as a question. "Would you", or "How about you" are two good ones to use. As a question, it makes it easier for her to feel more in control. This will benefit you both in the end, of course."

"Of course," Anderson parroted back as he leaned down in the chair. Father Renaldo eyed the fingers drumming a rhythm on the table and sighed.

"Now, we have to talk about you." Anderson groaned and looked away, his eyes already hardening in anticipation of the lecture about to come. "Anderson, you know your place in this- you're a priest, after all. You've got an obligation as a husband to-"

"I _know_ what I have an obligation to do, with all due respect. And I'm thinking about it, trust me- I'm thinking about it. I'm trying."

"Anderson trying is good, but you need to… initiate these things. She's your wife- you shouldn't be afraid to touch her. She seems to already know how you feel about it, and she's agreed that patience is the best thing but you're going to have to step up a bit," the priest stated firmly. The fingers tapped the table faster and he pursed his lips. "Anderson, you're going to have to get over this fear of having sex." The hand punched through the table and both men jumped in surprise. Anderson looked in shock at his fist before clearing his throat and reaching down to pick up the shattered wood on the floor. He sat the splintered fragments on the table between them, his face red.

"I'm sorry," he confessed. Father Renaldo stood, and held up a hand when Anderson began to copy him.

"No, wait here." He left the room. Anderson stared at the hole in the table until the door opened again. He looked over to see a confused Integra enter and Renaldo motioned for her to sit. "I believe this to be the best way for this to work. You both need to communicate with each other. You've got an hour." He shut the door and they both heard a lock click before the elderly priest walked away.

* * *

"What happened here?" Integra asked as she pointed to the table. Anderson turned an even darker red and muttered something about punching it by accident. She arched a brow before settling back in the chair and staring him down until he looked up at her. "Well, are you going to talk or do you want me to?".

"The good Father tells me that you are terrified when you don't get your way," he answered bluntly. Integra jerked in shock before her face snarled in anger.

"Well, _you _are too scared to even touch a woman, much less me!" she shot back. "What, do I dress manly enough for you to be comfortable?" Anderson hissed under his breath at the jab before glaring at her, his eyes green fire.

"I don't need this," he finally growled. Integra shook her head, putting a hand on her forehead and gripping the table as if she were stopping herself from leaping at him.

"Why is it so hard for you to talk? You keep beating around the bush and then you just stop every time I think we're getting somewhere."

"_This _is getting somewhere? We're just fighting like we always do; like we've been doing for a year now!" Integra licked her lips and inhaled, clearly trying to remain calm.

"We only fight because you won't tell me what the problem is!" she growled, standing to brace herself on the table as she eyed him furiously. Anderson stood too, looming over her for a moment before turning and stalking towards the wall. He looked at the cross there before shaking his head. "_What is the problem?_" Integra asked again, her voice rising to a shriek.

"This! This is the problem!" He pointed at the cross. "I am a _priest! _ A divine instrument of _God!_" he shouted, pounding his fist against the wall in time with his shouts. "I don't have these, these thoughts; these unholy fantasies. It's only supposed to be for one thing- a child. I can't be having these little ideas in my mind of what I want to be doing to-" he cut himself off angrily, turning to face the wall again.

"Yes, you can!" she shouted back. "You're not some holy, divine being that's perfect in every way. You're a human, just like me, just like the father and Enrico Maxwell and everyone else!"

"No," he countered, his voice subdued. "I'm not a human. Not like you. You were right, what you told me once; I'm a _thing,_" he said in disgust, looking at his hands. "Not a bayonet, though I've strived so hard for it."

"I didn't mean it." He turned to look at her knowingly and she colored slightly. "Well, maybe at that time I meant it, but not anymore." She walked over to him and hesitated before patting his arm lightly. He turned and seemed to come to some mental agreement before wrapping her in a hug. She stiffened and held onto his arms, her eyes wide and slightly guarded.

"What? I thought you wanted me to be more informal. You look like you've never been hugged." She mumbled something under her breath and he leaned in closer. "What was that?"

"I said that I haven't been hugged before. It's… strange." She braced against him, looking like she was planning on hopping up to the ceiling by using his arms as leverage. Anderson felt his jaw drop slightly before thinking about it. If she'd lived her whole life among businessmen, it was quite possible that no one had ever held her before. He sighed and shook his head. How was it that she could practically start making out with him, and then turn around and not know how to hug someone? He pushed her arms off of him and they hung limply at her sides.

"Just… you know- put your arms around my waist," he sputtered, trying to figure out the proper way to teach someone to embrace. She snaked her arms under his and after a moment she laid her head on his chest over his heart, still quite stiff. He patted her on the back and cleared his throat uneasily. Finally, he felt her relax against him and she let out a little sigh.

"Nice," she murmured. "Your heart's beating fast."

"It does that," he said quickly. "It's why I'm so warm. The blood runs through my body much faster than a regular human." She hummed in agreement and pushed away far enough to look up at him. He brushed the stray hairs off her shoulder and found his fingers trailing up her neck of their own accord. She shivered and brushed his hand away, shaking her head. "What?"

"Him, he's…staring at me. We can't do this here," she muttered, jerking her head in the direction of the cross. Turning to look behind him, he had to agree. The carved wooden Jesus did look like he was giving them a condescending frown. He suddenly felt uncomfortable and pushed her away, his entire face growing hot. _Good Lord in Heaven…._

* * *

"What name are you taking?" Integra looked up from the document, her jaw hanging open for a moment before she put down the pen, nonplussed.

"I honestly hadn't thought about it," she admitted. Maxwell gave a fatigued sigh and rubbed his temples.

"Most women choose the male's last name, but with such a famous name as yours you could easily just keep your own name. It's really up to you," Father Renaldo chimed in helpfully. She looked beside her at Anderson, who gave a noncommittal shrug.

"I dinnae care what you choose. It's up to you." She picked the pen back up, tapping it on the table as she thought before carefully printing the new name and signing beneath it.

"Oh, what the hell. I have enough formal titles; what's one more name attached to me going to do?" she asked as she combined their last names with a hyphen and a flourish before handing him the pen. Anderson threw his own cramped signature onto the tiny line and handed it to Maxwell, who signed as both the witness and judge. The cleric in charge of the little church signed his place and Renaldo stamped the marriage certificate before placing it carefully into the briefcase.

"Congratulations, you can now say that you're technically married according to law. Now, if all goes well you'll be officially married in the eyes of God by the end of the week." The priest pulled out a blank card and handed it to Anderson. "Here are the funds you requested. The accounting office has told me that they advise you not to ask again for a very long time. It seems they had to pull many strings to get what you have there." The paladin nodded and tucked the card into his jacket pocket. The two men nodded and stood. "If you'll excuse us, we are both weary from the trip and would like to rest. Good night, Anderson, Ms. Hellsing…Anderson."

Renaldo nodded and followed the silver-haired archbishop out of the church. The cleric fluttered around the pulpit, politely waiting for the couple to leave. They quickly bid their goodbyes and left into the dying sunset. The suburban streets outside were quiet, with only a few people hanging about at the bus stop. Anderson and Integra bypassed the stop, choosing instead to walk down the tranquil streets towards the already bustling downtown.

"Well, I'll have to find an ATM somewhere or a bank so that I can check the amount on the card," Anderson said conversationally. Integra huffed as she tried to keep up, fighting back the drowsiness already weighing at the edges of her mind.

"Just as long as we get something to eat. I'm starving and I'm starting to really miss my teatime."

* * *

"Attacked!? But how- why – what in blazes were you thinking? The minute you returned, you should have let me know so that I could contact Sir Integra!" Walter's face was blotched and twisted in rage. Across the room, Alucard simply shrugged.

"I took care of it." Walter shook his head and rubbed his eyes with one hand, taking deep breaths. "There's no longer a problem. The police girl is fine."

"It's not whether she's fine or not. I have a duty to tell Sir Integra these things. They may be important. We need to know who's behind all this."

"I told you who was behind it, Walter," Alucard argued. "It was her little blonde Childe that had abducted Seras, I'm sure of it. I wouldn't forget that look of terror easily," he added with a smirk. Walter gave him a no-nonsense glare and wiped his monocle on his shirt. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm reporting it to you now."

"Is Miss Victoria truly alright? I don't mean her physical wellbeing, either." Alucard bristled slightly.

"Are you implying that I can't care for my own fledgling?" he asked, a warning note in his voice. Walter didn't reply, only giving him a reproachful look and Alucard pulled off his glasses to look the older man firmly in the face. "The police girl is fine," he repeated. "She is strong, despite her shortcomings."

"Alright," the butler conceded, shaking his head as he pulled a blank report out of the desk drawer. "Just promise me that you're going to look after her." Alucard grinned and vanished into mist, leaving Walter alone in his office. He shook his head and began to fill out the report, making a note to talk to the young woman later by herself.

"You're still on about that?" The ancient vampire collapsed in his chair, automatically reaching for the wine bottle as his outwear vanished. Seras followed closely behind, choosing to sit on the armrest of the chair with her feet crowding his thighs in the seat.

"I really want to do this for Sir Integra. I'm actually pretty good at it. She'll be beautiful." Seras sighed happily, despite the shivering fear that still surfaced in her mind occasionally. She had woken up feeling quite rejuvenated, and after trying (and failing) to scold her master for hypnotizing her she'd taken to following him closely around the manor, begging to be taken to the wedding. "Don't you want to go and see?"

"No, I do not. I abhor weddings. Funerals are more my forte." Alucard poured the wine and took a deep drink, his eyes burning into the far wall. "I have no desire to praise my own downfall. After all these years, now I have to work for those goddamned Catholics again," he muttered.

"You do not. Anderson's not going to become your new master. Sir Integra's around for that," Seras countered as she played absently with his hair, the long locks spilling down to his waist in irritation.

"And their eventual progenies?" he hissed bitterly. "Little Vatican angels, I'm sure." Seras rolled her eyes.

"You're being melodramatic, Master. I'm not staying here if this is the way you're going to be all night," she threatened.

"Fine, leave," he grumbled under his breath. Seras sniffed haughtily and hopped off the chair, only to be snagged by his shadows and pulled back. "You're being ridiculous, little girl," he snapped.

"No, I'm being facetious. There's a difference."

"Fine lines," he shot back as he sipped the wine. Seras crossed her arms and sighed.

"Take me to the wedding."

"Go by yourself."

"What, so those bloody monsters can have another shot at me?" she squeaked, paling at the thought. "I'm not going out there alone!"

"Don't live your life in fear, police girl. You're a monster too; go and deal with them," he instructed dismissively. Seras sent him a reproving glare and tucked her knees under her chin, sliding off the chair to sit on the floor.

"I'm not strong enough," she muttered as she drew patterns with his shadows as they slid around her on the floor. "I'm never strong enough."

"Who's the melodramatic one now?" he mocked. When no answer came, he slid his arm down the chair to rest his hand on her head, ruffling the hairs. "True Nosferatu do not wallow in self-pity, Seras. It's unbecoming."

"Well, I'm not true Nosferatu then. I'm just a servant vampire," she pouted. His fingers tangled in her hair, rubbing before trailing lazily down the back of her head. She leaned back thoughtlessly, letting the digits brush her neck before curling strands of hair around his fingers. "What are you doing?" she asked softly. He didn't reply right away and she twisted slightly to look up at him.

"Seras, do you care for me?" he asked. Seras blinked in surprise before nodding.

"Of course I do. You're my master," she answered simply. He shook his head, his eyes dark.

"No. I mean something else." She looked at him, the hand on her neck dipping down to her collarbone. She pulled away, standing up.

"Quit that. You're tickling me," she complained. He looked at her eyes, level with his even though he sat in the enormous chair.

"What are you afraid of?" he questioned. Seras tilted her head, trying to discern the meaning behind his words. Finally, she sighed and turned away.

"I'm afraid of lots of things. It's a weakness, I guess." She began to walk towards the door. "If you need me, I'll be with Walter." She left the room, shutting the large door behind her and leaving the man inside alone with his thoughts.

* * *

**Afterword:** _Ambrose is one messed up cookie. He's got no pity for the living humans, but he dotes on the Girls like they were his own children. He's pretty kooky in the head, huh? _

_I don't know much about marriage certificates, but Maxwell has enough power to fudge anything. Or at least he thinks he does. _

Thank you, thank you THANK YOU for all the reviews (I swear I read them and smile and I cry like an idiot because I love to hear your opinions). I try to answer every one, but the guest reviews always make me sad because I can't PM you guys back. So I'm going to take the time to answer them really quick right here (except for the ones Ketti did because I know it was you and you can't hide your "MOARS" from me forever, you silly girl.):

**To laura:** They're seriously the cause of my nightmares during my childhood about the dark. It's silly, because now I can't sleep at all if there's light in the room. BUT THEY WERE SO FREAKIN' CREEPY LIKE THAT ONE ABOUT THE HAZING AND THEY TIED A **FRIGGEN HAND **TO THE LIGHT BULB. But it wasn't the stories, oh NO. it was those _pictures. _Oh good God. Those pictures. O_O

**The "Guest" who commented about therapy: **Seriously, who doesn't? I do. I know all my friends and coworkers do. Everybody in Hellsing does. Imagine the strides ol' sexual Freud could make with the Major**. **

**To "Laura" again (at least, I guess it's the same Laura?): **They're here first thing! Well, Integra anyway.

**To "Guest" again, this time talking about hostages: **nope. But that's a good guess anyway. I'm surprised I didn't think of that. I'm actually pretty confident about how this story is going to wrap up, but I'm not revealing anything ;)

**To kruserer: **That's the one! Wasn't it interesting? I love to watch documentaries like that. I don't watch much History channel anymore anyways, because I get all those documentaries on Netflix. At my fingertips~

**To Karly666-chan: **I'm glad you enjoy the story! (Cheers for shared ships)

**To tier: **How am I ever gonna hold all these feels? (Spills feels all over floor and walks away awkwardly) I promise to try my best!

**To leer: **Totally. Totally intentional. : D and thank you! I'm really glad you like me enough to keep coming back, even when I fail miserably!

**And finally, to Guest: **Seriously Ketti. I know that one was you. You can't be logging out just to spam my review feed. LOL No I don't care. It lets me know that you still love me. ; P


	16. Se îngriji de

"So you're deserting."

"I can't let her go on her own like this."

"Do you know _why _she's "going like this"?"

"Something about that vampire embarrassing her I think, Sir."

"So she's running away?"

"No, well- she said she was leaving, so I thought it best to go with her. She told me about being attacked by some Báthory woman's bloke and I thought that I shouldn't let her go alone." Walter's pencil lead snapped as he almost slammed his fist on the desk from pressure. He looked up sharply at the mousy-haired man standing before him.

"You said Báthory?" he asked cautiously. Stevenson scratched the light stubble on his chin and nodded.

"I'm positive. She was pretty scared about it, but right now she's too angry to even care. She's not even packing much, just her handgun and some blood to-go." Walter growled and punched the number for Alucard's line. The vampire never answered his phone, but it didn't hurt to try anyway. Stevenson edged towards the door before high-tailing it out of the room. Walter let him go, drumming his fingers on the desk impatiently.

"This is the kind of thing he needs to include in his damn reports!"

* * *

Seras stomped down the road, growling sporadically at the human following closely behind her with a rifle slung over his back, whistling "Waltzing Matilda" like it was nobody's business.

"Do you mind?" she hissed finally.

"Not at all. It's a man's duty to protect a woman, and it's my duty to protect my commander." Seras groaned in frustration, but let him go even though she could have easily lost him. They had been walking for at least three hours and no one had even tried to get them to come back, which worried Harry but only seemed to steel Seras' resolve to leave. "Where are we going to, exactly?"

"Anywhere away from here. I hate it there, and I hate _him. _He's so changeable, and I can't stand it anymore!" she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted to herself. "Besides, he's not going to stop me. I told him I don't need him anymore. I can do this on my own." Harry decided that running away and sulking was a very childish way to declare your independence, but said nothing and resumed his whistling. After a moment, he heard Seras half-heartedly singing the lyrics. By the time the squatter arrived to reclaim the jumpbuck, they'd made it down the street past the city limits and out on their way through the countryside. They passed by the rolling hills, alternately singing duets and talking about where they should go as they watched the sky begin to lighten. After a while, Harry began to yawn.

"Look, we have to find somewhere to stay. The sun's going to be rising soon, and besides that my shift is long over and it's my bedtime," he whined in a roundabout way. Seras nodded and looked down the road to the forest she'd known was not too far ahead.

"Let's make it to the center of the forest, and then we'll curl up for the day. With any luck, we'll be on a bus to the ocean by tomorrow." She nodded to herself and began to speed up. Harry followed at a jog, ignoring the burn in his legs as he tried to keep up.

"And after the ocean?" he asked.

"Well, when we get there I'll think of something. Maybe we should try to go to Scotland. I've always heard it was a nice place, even if Anderson came from there."

"He did? I thought he lived in Italy," Harry panted.

"Well, the accent- I mean… I dunno. Do you need me to slow down?" she looked back at his red face. He shook his head.

"No, you go on. I'll catch up." They'd reached the forest by now, and had entered in quite a ways when Seras stopped dead in her tracks. Harry almost ran into her, and looked around at the empty lane in confusion. "Bugger, Mum. Put your brake lights on." Seras' nose twitched and she took in the air like a cat, mouth open slightly as her crimson eyes scanned the multi-colored foliage around them. The autumn leaves hadn't fallen yet, leaving a dense layer that Harry couldn't see through, but he heard the slight rustling in the leaves though there was no breeze at all. His hand immediately went to his rifle as he felt Seras bristle beside him in alarm. "What is it?" he whispered almost inaudibly, certain that she could still hear him. He'd been her second-in-command, her partner of sorts for quite some time now and they each knew the other's body language like their own.

"It's so sweet its sour… I'm never going to forget that horrid taste," she whispered, her voice full of suppressed terror. "He's out there, waiting for me." As if on cue, a young man walked out of the path only a few yards away. Harry almost laughed at the stranger's outfit. He looked like a clown reject, with his frilly collar and ruffles. The only weapon he seemed to carry was a sword at his side, although his watered-down, purpley-orange eyes gave away his true nature. After a thought, Harry decided he liked Seras' clear crimson irises better. At least hers made her look even more beautiful against her pale skin.

The stranger glared at them both, his face twisted in a look of contempt. He rocked from one heel to the other, clearly waiting for Seras to give some sort of reaction. Harry heard Seras sniff once more before she spoke softly to him, her voice dropping almost below a whisper.

"Harry, run. No matter what you hear, run and don't stop until you get to the mansion. His creatures aren't here, but I smell them. They may be making their way towards Hellsing this very minute. I need you to run and alert Walter and the soldiers." Harry nodded, letting go of the rifle and crouching in preparation to burst into a sprint at a moment's notice.

"Right and I'll tell your vampire to-"

"No." He looked up in shock at her resigned face. "I told him that I didn't need him, and I meant it. I'm fighting this one alone. Now run, Harry. You need to go warn the others." Her voice betrayed no sign of fear, only acceptance for whatever would happen.

"_Mum_." He cleared his throat. "Roger, Captain. Good luck." He broke off into the fastest run he'd ever managed before, the pain in his limbs forgotten as he sped back towards the mansion. He was more than worried about Seras, but whatever was going on, her vampire would learn of it by his message to his comrades. If he wanted to help, so be it. But he had to warn the others, then come back to help his commander. A second-in-command would never desert in a time of need.

* * *

Seras swallowed, pushing past the lump in her throat. No matter how frightened she felt, she had promised herself not to call her master. She had to prove, once and for all, that she could watch out for herself. And if she couldn't? Well, she'd tried to be good in her short unlife. Perhaps God would understand and let her slide. Most likely not, but she would see if that's what it came to. She stared at the boy standing across the lane from her.

"Does your mistress know you're here?" she asked finally. He shook his head slowly. She began to walk forward, her boots making muffled clumps on the asphalt as she made her way down the painted line. He mimicked her, his leather boots silent on the manmade stone and sword clinking lightly against his belt.

"_Non_," he spoke aloud. "I'm supposed to be investigating the Hellsing woman's gun, and how it came to be in our hands. But I have a grudge to settle first, Cher." They reached each other and stood face to face, burgundy eyes meeting crimson as they simply stared.

"I see. Is it because you lost to my master?" Seras asked. He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "You know, you're the only other fledgling I've ever seen." He tilted his head.

"And you are the only one I've ever seen, either. In another life, we may have become comrades. But not this one." She nodded.

"Unfortunate. But I'm not dying today. We'll meet again in Hell. But hopefully, not for a long time." She gave him a soft smile, her fangs pricking at the corners of her lips. He returned it before he set his jaw.

"Yes, hopefully." A small breeze picked up, blowing a singly red leaf from a maple above their heads. It floated between them, spiraling until it touched the lane with a scuff so soft that human ears would have never heard it. The two vampire children sprang apart before coming together with a resounding thud that echoed across the countryside, shaking the trees down to their roots and causing a small avalanche of leaves to fall.

The Frenchman cursed and kicked out at her before pulling out his sword, using it to block some of the bullets she was unloading into his body. She ran out before long and stared at the useless, smoking barrel before flipping it in her hand and smashing the hilt against the side of his head, caving it in with a sick crunch. He howled in pain yet slid the sword easily through her left shoulder, separating muscle from bone as she screamed. Her arm fell uselessly at her side and she clutched at it, shouting curses before he tackled her to the ground. She stared up in panic at his head, lopsided and bleeding as he grinned before raising the sword.

She saw the intent in his eyes as he positioned it over her breast, ready to pierce her heart. Her adrenaline kicked in and her eyes flashed a darker crimson before a vicious thrill worked its way through her system. She _loved _the feeling of the fight; the pain dulling to a throb in her arm as her hand swung up to grab the sword as it fell. It cut through to the bone but she simply laughed, her eyes wild and fangs visible in her grin as she managed to stop the assault and even break the metal blade. It shattered, fragments of light cutting her fist as it swung up to make impact with her opponent's face.

She felt the nose crumple under her knuckles and his cry of agony was sweet music to her ears. He fell off of her and she jumped up. Her blood was singing, reveling in the pain she had caused and wanting more, _more_! She began to giggle, the high-pitched tittering evolving into deep chuckles before exploding into peals of dark laughter as she stomped on him and heard the bones shatter in his leg.

"Still want to play, little boy?" Her voice sounded malevolent and unfamiliar to her own ears, but she was too far gone to care. She'd gotten a taste of the darker instincts that she possessed, and it was _delicious_. She watched her enemy pick himself up as best he could with a broken leg, holding his face with one hand as the blood spilled out of his nose; the tainted, sweet-smelling fluid splattered the ground around them and stained the brilliant leaves. He hissed and she smelled the rotten odor of decay as shapeless Girls emerged from the trees, moaning and threatening her with their emaciated limbs. She laughed and let them shuffle forward, ready to _maim_, to _murder_ and wash in their putrid blood, just to be able to sing in her victory over these demons.

Shots rang out behind her and bullets whizzed by her head, followed by men's shouts and commands. She was pulled out of her mindlessly violent state and turned to see her favorite sniper- no, favorite human _in the world_ on one knee, surrounded by her fleet of unmarried men as they all pointed various weapons at the creatures. Several of them wore mixed expressions of disgust and horror as they saw the Girls, but the determination burned brightly in their eyes as they prepared to protect their leader. She smiled, joyful tears coming to her eyes as she realized that these men cared about her.

"Stevenson!" she shouted happily, and he nodded and let another bullet fly into the head of a Girl. She let out a choked moan and fell into a heap on the asphalt. The Frenchman's eyes bugged out of his beaten head and he pushed his blood-soaked hair out of his face with a snarl. He ran towards her blindly, and Seras caught him in a tackle and brought him to the ground. He struggled underneath her, already weakening from the blood loss and stress of the fight.

"Don't touch my Girls!" he roared at her, trying to get his hands out of her grasp. "Don't you dare touch my Girls!" Seras looked at the monsters with pity. They were shadows of the humans they once were, and she turned her head to call to her men.

"Kill them all, soldiers. They don't deserve to live like this. Put them out of their misery." She looked down at the young man under her. "You're sick, letting someone do this to innocent women."

"Sir, yes Sir!" the men yelled as one and began picking off the Girls with well-aimed bullets. The Frenchman saw what they were doing and immediately renewed his struggles, calling out to the Girls by name in an overly distraught state as they fell. His voice reached a painful octave and Seras felt the air shift and a woman's voice screamed out above the groaning and gunfire.

"What are you doing!?" Seras looked up to see an immensely beautiful, frail woman standing among the corpses. She had one jeweled hand outstretched, a finger pointing at Seras. "What are you doing to my darling Ambrose?" The boy struggled, his eyes trained on the woman. The lady picked up her skirts and moved, her eyes hardening with serious intent. Seras pressed her weight on the boy, her uninjured arm moving to his chest.

"Don't move! Take another step, and I'm tearing his heart out!" The lady and Ambrose both froze. The men behind her shifted uneasily, and Seras pressed her claws into the multicolored blouse. The lady raised her hands imploringly, smiling sweetly at Seras and showing off tiny fangs.

"Now now, my sweet. Let's not make such a big fuss over one naughty boy's mistake. How about you let him up, let him go now? I'm sure that I can pay whatever damages you like." When Seras didn't move, her voice took on an unnerved edge. "Be reasonable, darling! I'm not asking for much, just my fledgling back, yes?" She regained her cloying tone. "You can… perhaps, look the other way, as it were."

Seras' mind jumped back to long, long before any of this happened. _Just a bit of help… you can look the other way! You bastard! _She pressed her claws in further with a snarl, delighting in the little dots of blood that appeared on his shirt. She thrust her arm into the air, hearing the lady's cry of fear before the air beside her expanded and she smelled a scent as familiar to her as her own. She looked up to see Alucard standing beside her, his face a mask of fury. But the fury, surprisingly, was directed at the lady and not at her. His hand enveloped hers and he picked her up, setting her on her feet before kicking the boy over to his own creator with the toe of his boot, sending the thin body through the air to land at her clothed toes with a thump. The lady immediately knelt at his side, cooing soothingly, rubbing the hair back from his head and categorizing his wounds.

Her master's hands worked over her own injuries almost tenderly, his mind brushing hers and showing his relief and pride at her behavior. She smiled up at him before remembering that she was supposed to hate him, jerking her torn arm away with a muffled grunt. He growled quietly, but didn't openly chastise her for her blatant disobedience. _He must be happier with me than he's letting on, _she thought as she watched him look back at the lady in disapproval.

"Countess Báthory. This is transgression number two, if my count is correct." Alucard's voice was both pleased and expectant. The woman's hands stilled over her ward and she glanced up with a feral expression. "You know what that means," he added in a singsong voice. Seras looked at him as he pulled a sword from within his jacket and the Countess began to visibly shake.

"No, please my lord- have mercy, he didn't know what he was doing." She knelt over him and trembled, trying to shield the body on the ground from the ancient vampire's view. "I beg of you, take me instead!" Alucard shook his head almost sadly, summoning shadows from the ground to drag her off the broken body. Ambrose gazed up at him in terror, tears forming and spilling from his eyes silently as he watched his creator become more panicked.

"One is a warning, two is punishment, and three is death. You know the rules, Elizabeth. I don't bend them for anyone." Seras looked back at the human soldiers, who were watching the display with equal parts repulsion and bewilderment.

"Run," she commanded and they all took one look at her, then her master before taking off in the other direction. Even in the hardest soldiers, self-preservation prevailed when it came to dealing with creatures of the night. The Countess' screams rose to a fevered pitch and she turned back in time to see the sword glint over his head before it came down with a crash through Ambrose's neck, quickly beheading him.

The woman took one look at the body as it collapsed into ash before fainting dead away, her face drained of all color. Alucard nodded once to the shadows which covered the Countess and in a moment, she was gone. Seras looked at the ash pile as Alucard kicked it into the breeze before turning and coming back to her, placing the sword back wherever it had come from. "Master, what did you do?" she asked quietly, already knowing the answer. He looked at her quietly before his eyes hardened with a deep resolve.

"Do not question me; these rules were invented long before you were ever dreamed of."

"You killed him." Her voice was weak, even to her own ears. "You killed him, just to punish her." She shook her head, looking down at her bloodstained hands in awe. Had she almost torn his heart out herself? What was she? The answer echoed in the back of her mind, in the faces of her soldiers. At the time, they'd been whispering about her master but now it seemed they spoke about her.

_Monster. Kills for fun. Evil in those eyes, you can see it. Makes me want to piss myself, the bloody bastard. Cor, I hate to even be around when they eat. It's __**blood**__, mate. Some bloke's blood. _The sight of her hands blurred as hot tears began to pool in her eyes. She wiped them away, keeping her still sharpened claws away from her face as she sobbed quietly. She didn't even know why she was so sad; the boy had tried to kill her, but something deep inside told her that he wasn't to blame for all of this. If he wasn't, who was?

"You shouldn't have done it." The words seemed to hang in the air, hovering between them before he pushed through and grabbed her shoulders. He shook her like a doll, her head shaking on her neck as he almost gave her whiplash.

"Are you brainless? Even a Ghoul knows it's enemy! You weak little fool; would you rather have been the one that was turned into ash?" he shouted at her, his voice echoing in the space the trees created.

"You shouldn't have done it! Let go of me!" it was as if he'd turned a switch on inside her mind and she fought against him. She didn't want to be like him, where everything was black or white and gray areas didn't exist. She didn't _want _to feel lonely forever, forced to hate everything because the world simply couldn't and wouldn't understand. She didn't want her only joy in life to be crushing someone's skull beneath her boots; where everyone else in the universe, even God Himself and the Devil were her enemies and there was nowhere that peace could be found.

"Don't fight against me, Seras!" he held on tighter to her arms, crushing the already pain-ridden limb and bruising the other one instantly. Purple marks blossomed on her pale skin and sent her into a frenzied panic. She pushed against him with her legs, kicking him in the shin and screaming at the top of her lungs. If anyone heard, no one came to her aid.

"Get off! Get off of me! _You're a monster_!" The words slipped from her lips before she had time to think. She froze, her eyes slowly traveling up the expanse of his chest before reaching his face. He gave her a long, cold look. "Master, I-"

"So. Now you understand." He let go of her arms and she landed on her feet in the middle of the scattered pile of leaves. He turned his back on her, walking off to the trees but not vanishing. He seemed to be grappling with something, his hand running repeatedly through his hair and knocking his hat off on the ground. She looked at it as it rolled before landing at the edge of the asphalt. The tears returned to her eyes as she realized that she'd hurt him, and that she'd _meant _to. She'd known what to say to make him let go of her, and part of her believed it too. And he knew that she did. She'd never hid the fact that she believed him to be in the wrong on a lot of things, but never had she openly voiced it.

She looked down at her feet, noticing the bright scarlet stains on the orange leaves, already soaking into the asphalt and evaporating. Was this really all that was left- the only indication that a young man had ever been here, had ever fought with her and now he was gone forever? It was all so… superficial. The world didn't care that one monster was gone. There were a thousand more to take its place. Something about that tore her heart to shreds; something that told her that this one boy would only be missed by his former owner, and that only one person would ever mourn him. Who'd mourn her? No one. Not even humans.

She sputtered, feeling the tears flow down her cheeks and no longer cared about making a scene. She burst into anguished cries, crying for herself, her master, this stupid, foolish boy- for every monster who had no one to cry for it. She slumped to the ground, pawing at the wet leaves. Why couldn't she be like everyone else, with no heart and no conscious, nothing to pity others with?

"I hate you! I hate you for turning me into this… this thing!" she sobbed, letting the tears roll off her nose as she sat on her knees amongst the foliage.

"The choice was yours." The answer was quiet, and she knew that he was watching her.

"Bullshit!" She opened her eyes to see his nose twitch- the only amount of a flinch that she'd ever get out of him. "You had my life planned out from the minute you saw me in that damned cathedral; admit it!" She stumbled towards him, reaching down to pick up his hat. She meant to throw it, but when she touched the familiar fabric she held it close to her chest with her uninjured hand, her fingers barely stroking the brim. Why couldn't she be more heartless like him? Then they wouldn't fight- then they could coexist, even if it was half-assed existence at best.

"Seras." He reached an arm out to her and she shied away.

"Don't touch me. If you hate me so much, don't touch me." She didn't have to feel it in his mind; she knew he couldn't stand her weakness and abhorred her kindness. And she was no better than the rest of the world; judging him and finding him unworthy of her- a monster. A small voice piped up in the back of her mind. _If you find him unworthy, why do you love him so? Surely, this sort of affection isn't something born of master and servant, usually, _it contradicted. She held his hat tighter, the tears slowly stemming. _It's not him you hate. It's yourself. _

"I don't hate you. Have I not told you that before?" His words were firm, but held no other emotion. It was simple fact. He didn't hate her, and that was that. But he didn't love her, either. She handed him his hat back, not meeting his gaze. She sniffed, wiping her nose on her shoulder as best she could. She needed blood- the pain was really starting to get to her, but she didn't want to ask him to heal her. It was more weakness than either of them could bear.

"Are we always going to fight like this?" she asked instead. He didn't reply, but his answer was clear all the same. She sighed, walking past him in the direction of the mansion. "You still can't talk to me, can you?" He followed behind her, barely guiding her stumbling footsteps with his hand on her shoulder. She allowed it, something telling her that it made him feel better to do it; he didn't know what to do to help her, but he knew how to order and guide so that's what he did.

Her heart ached for him- he had no idea how to sympathize or identify with her, and she was the closest thing he had to a true companion, wasn't she? How lonely it must be for him: at least she had comrades to fall back on when she needed them. She stopped, letting him overtake her before tugging on his sleeve. He eyed her askance before his gaze met hers fully, waiting. She took a deep breath and sighed, wiping the last of the tears away.

"I don't hate you either." He didn't reply, only looking at her as if he wasn't sure _what _to think. "Master, I'm always going to be here, so don't worry." She gave him a shaky smile, trying to sound confident. "I don't want you to worry about me. I can take care of myself." He nodded once in concurrence before turning to face the lane again.

"Hurry, Seras. The sun is rising." She jogged to keep up with his long strides as they made their way back home. Her heart was still heavy, but she would be alright. For the first time, she had realized something- she knew now what her existence was going to be about, what her purpose was. She didn't need anyone to take care of her, but he did. And when he needed someone to care, she'd be at his side no matter what. _Don't worry about me, Master. I'll look after the both of us. _

* * *

Integra remembered being a small girl and pretending that her nightgown was a princess's dress. She'd spin around, letting the soft fabric billow out around her tiny legs and make believe that she was waltzing in her Prince Charming's arms as the clock struck midnight. Then she'd look in the mirror and swirl her gown around in a pretty curtsey, her long hair falling over her eyes as she smiled at invisible courtesans. She was a good princess.

Now, as she stood in the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror she remembered those times. Tilting her head, she regarded herself quietly in the mirror bolted down into the back of the door. She was still pretty enough, even if she was a grown woman and no longer a little girl. Her hair was still flowing and cascaded down her back like Rapunzel, but she was no longer subject to silly fantasies. The only Prince Charming she'd ever have now was Anderson, and he wasn't exactly the right material. Besides, no princess in any of the tales ever wore glasses and presided over vampires- of that she was sure. But at least in her nightgown she could always hold onto that childlike fantasy.

She allowed herself a tiny twirl in the confines of the bathroom, admiring the way her new nightgown flowed smoothly around her still-scrawny legs. She'd all but forced her new- well, "technically" new husband to detour to the shops in order to buy a new gown, seeing as the old one had been ruined (his fault) and she'd been slowly freezing to death in his shirt every night since. Her gown was immensely modest and barely showed her collarbone, much less her thighs. It went past her knees and ended around her ankles, although it was shapeless enough that it didn't confine her.

She went closer to the mirror and pushed her glasses up onto her nose, twisting her head from side to side. She didn't often look at herself; she was busy from sunup to sundown and that was a luxury she could hardly afford besides the quick glances during the day to make sure she didn't have food in her teeth or her hair was a mess. But she was a woman; when she did get time she enjoyed looking at herself and checking up on how things were looking on her face. And she looked good, if she had to say.

Laughing at her own vanity, she finished combing out her hair and went into the main room of the hotel. Anderson was sitting on one of the beds, which had been turned back in preparation for sleep. He was looking over some papers that had been in an envelope Maxwell had given him at the church, his face scrunched in concentration as he poured over the contents. Integra glanced at the documents as she went by with her dirty clothing; it looked to be some sort of report paper, but in the margins were notes and sums written in Anderson's writing. Some of them were outlined in red and scrawled out in others, tiny notes written beside the scratches.

She didn't want to break his concentration to ask, but when she passed by he looked up at her and watched as she folded the dirty clothing and placed them on the empty closet shelf. She turned to see him looking her over, taking in her new sleepwear with a slightly leery look. He said nothing and turned back to his papers. She took it as a sign that he approved.

She hesitated by the closet for a moment. Before, she wouldn't have thought twice to crawl into bed beside him, for both warmth and just to vex the priest. But now that things were becoming official, a very uncharacteristic vein of shyness began to flow through her; making her wonder if the other bed was looking a bit more inviting tonight.

He was completely focused on his work again; his glasses had slid to the end of his nose and his green eyes were trained on the paper as he worked out some math in the corner, his fingers unconsciously counting out the numbers as he did the calculations. He wasn't wearing his outer garments or even his boots; only the dark turtleneck and worn-looking pants that contrasted with his light gray socks. The golden crucifix dangled from his neck, swaying slightly as he wrote out his answer at the bottom of the paper before folding it and sticking it back in the envelope with a heavy sigh.

"Something wrong?" she asked, more loudly than she needed to. He looked up at her and shook his head, standing up and stretching before making his way to the drawer for his own nightclothes.

"Nothing at all; 'Tis just everyday work that I've been needing to catch up on. I'm always behind on something, it seems." He pulled his shirt from her pile and pants from his and frowned when he caught her expression in the television. "What?" She jerked back to attention, shaking her head.

"You just made me think of the mountain of paperwork that must be waiting for me back at home." She actually shivered at the thought. "I'll be chained to my desk for weeks, I just know it." He smiled at her vehement trepidation and went into the bathroom, closing the door and leaving her alone. She took the chance and nearly jumped into the unmade bed, pulling the covers up to her chest before she could rethink things and lose her courage.

She sat up against the pillows, the blanket only riding down a small bit and closed her eyes. She listened to the muffled sounds of the streets below, the sound of water running in the bathroom, the quiet clicks of electricity running through the old bulbs in the lamps. She allowed herself to relax, and the next thing she knew the bed moved and her eyes shot back open.

"Asleep?" he asked as he settled next to her in the bed. If he didn't want her there, he didn't say anything- instead he simply removed his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. She handed him hers as well and he rearranged his legs under the blanket. They brushed her leg and she moved away, realizing for the first time that he'd never before been completely under all of the sheets before. Had it been for her modesty, or was she looking too deeply into it?

She fingered the ridge of the sheet, looking at the pale scars still crisscrossing her hands from the attack on the prison. Most of them had healed up thanks to Anderson's cleaning job, but the deepest gashes still remained, healing slowly. She flexed her hands and felt his gaze resting on them as well. She allowed her thoughts to roam freely, deciding that she didn't care what he thought about her anymore (even if it wasn't true) because they were married now, even if it hadn't been in a church yet (and even then, she wasn't sure _why _they had to go to the church unless it was just for his benefit, because she really wasn't looking forward to it).

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked suddenly. She felt him stiffen for a moment beside her before he answered.

"No, I haven't. Why?" he asked, reaching up to turn off the lamp. She lay in the dark a moment before she replied.

"I haven't either. So we'll be alright. We won't know what we're missing, so we can't wish for more." She nodded to herself in the dark and turned to him, barely able to make out his outline in the darkness.

"I dinnae think it works like that," he said quietly, and she frowned.

"Well, for our sake I hope it does." She turned over, curling up in the bed and burying her face in the pillow. He didn't answer her, but his hand reached out to brush hers comfortingly before he turned as well. They lay back to back, each lost in their own thoughts until they fell asleep.

_Ring! Ring! Ring! _Anderson almost smashed the lamp in as he turned it on, his face livid as he eyed the phone. If there was one thing he never managed to get under control, it was his hatred of being woken in the middle of the night. He heard Integra moan sleepily behind him but he ignored her and grabbed the receiver, not bothering to check the ID.

"_What!?"_ he hissed into the phone, hearing the sharp intake of breath on the other side. A throat cleared and he finally recognized the voice as belonging to Integra's butler.

"Ahem, pardon me for waking you, but this is a matter of utmost urgency. Can you put Sir Hellsing on the phone?" the polite, slightly on edge voice asked. Anderson heard the undercurrent of panic in the elderly voice and immediately softened. At least it was a good reason; it'd better be a good reason, if the time he saw on the phone's clock was right. He muttered for the butler to hold on and turned over. Integra was curled into a ball of blankets on her pillow, her face hardly visible underneath the blonde hair.

"'s for you." She made a sound and he sighed and threw the receiver on her ear, trying to untangle his arm from the cord. A slender hand appeared and unwrapped the cord briskly before grabbing the receiver.

"Integra Hellsing," she mumbled groggily. The butlers stifled voice chattered and her eyes popped open, face paling. "What?! Is she alright?" She leaned up, listening to the butler's answer and rubbed her forehead wearily. "Yes, I know what- Hungary? Is he sure? Never mind all that, what about the Sirens?" She listened quietly and her face grew tenser with each minute. "I see," she said finally, wrapping the cord around her finger and leaning into the receiver to hold it with her head. "I see. Well, do what you have to do. No, Walter; I know but- yes. I know. Is she alright? Alucard hasn't- what? Oh… I see." She sounded like a broken record, her eyes growing listless as she sighed deeply. "I'm not sure what I can do to help her. I'm not a therapist." She listened for a minute more. "Yes, I'll be careful. Don't worry about me, Walter. I have my gun and Alexander's here, so- well, can you blame him? It's 3:00 in the morning! He's not used to being woken like I am." She hummed at something he said and finally bid him goodnight, handing Anderson the phone.

"Trouble at home?" he asked conversationally, cursing himself, the butler, and the vampires: he was sure they had some hand in this. He was wide awake now and he'd have a hard time falling back asleep. Integra gave him a look that told him he didn't want to know.

"Seems this is just getting deeper and deeper. The Sirens were hired by a vampiress, who's attacked Seras no less than twice in three days. Something else about Alucard not wanting her to go out, and she running off and then almost being killed and-" She fell back into the pillow with a thump. "I don't even care about their little rows, I just want to get this over with and go home," she murmured with a hint of a whine in her tone.

"What, for those cigars?" he asked and she looked at him incredulously for a moment before actually laughing. He blinked in surprised- usually she either just smiled or chuckled, never an outright _laugh _before. She tapered off and sighed, more softly this time.

"Yes, for the cigars."

* * *

**Afterword:** Wow! Why did this take so many rewrites! It's not even that long this time… damn. I'm losing my mind. Is this even real? Is this the real life? Is it a Fanta sea? (Drowns in orange soda)


	17. Răzbunare

**Author's Note:** Your scarf-clad author really needs some coffee right now. This bad day started with a water-heater malfunction, and now my brain is dead because of…well… Accounting 241. That's life, right? Plus, it got really cold really fast down here, but that's happy days for Juju! It's sweater and scarf weather again! Hooray for fall! (Then again, every kind of weather can be scarf weather, if you make it so.)

Also, did anyone see the Hellsing IV Abridged Preview on takahata101's YouTube page? What'd you think? I loved it! "I- SSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhh."

* * *

"After that they took all my blood out, ran the solution through my veins, and then replaced the liquids with my blood again. It was a reverse embalming, really." Anderson stared at the ceiling, his mind going back through the years to the operating table, where his last memory was being strapped down to cold steel. Integra lay on his arm, her eyes focused on him as she listened. She'd asked him about the procedure for bringing the dead to life, which was basically what the Vatican had been doing since the early 1800s.

"Where you awake when they did that?" Integra's voice was filled with a morbid fascination as she thought about how such a process would take place.

"No, no- but I was able to see it. It was on file in the video records, which I have clearance to." Anderson shifted under her slightly, his face wrinkled in slight revulsion. "It was a very messy procedure." Integra leaned forward to look him in the eyes, her own twinkling with scientific curiosity.

"And when you awoke? Did you feel different? More powerful?"

"The opposite. I had been brain dead for at least three hours, maybe more. I had to relearn how to walk and eat, plus with my changed muscles the simplest tasks became difficult." He chuckled softly. "I have no idea how many doors had to be replaced. I kept bending the knobs by mistake. Not to mention the first time I tried to shake someone's hand. But I had the previous Regenerator there to help me through the issues, and in the end-" he held up his hands, "here I am."

"Why did the last Regenerator not have a child? Like you are?" Integra asked.

"He was too old. They picked a man in his 50s to be the Regenerator before me. He didn't live quite as long as they hoped. It's still a very controversial and experimental procedure. That's why there's only one at the time," he explained. "By the time I was chosen, he was already Degenerating."

"Degenerating?" Integra shivered at the word. Just the sound of it was foreboding.

"It's the side effect of being one of our kind," he said quietly. He took her hand and placed it over his heart, which was racing away as fast as ever. "A human's body isn't made to run this fast, even a superhuman. After a while, the organs begin to fail and the muscles begin to break apart. Our bodies fall to ruin around us- we degenerate." His gaze became serious. "That is why I have to hurry and have a child to replace me. My time is almost up." Integra sat up fully, her features shocked.

"So you're dying? Right now?" she gasped. He shook his head and laughed.

"It won't be tomorrow, or even next year. I reckon I have another 25 years or so left in me at least. The last Regenerator was an older man, but he'd been the Vatican's weapon since 1878. He finally passed in 1953, four years after I came. So if that was how long he lasted, I will be much longer, I'd like to think." He looked up at her. "And it's not all at once. Degeneration takes place over a course of years; the body fails slowly. I'll have more than enough time to put my affairs in order."

"Damn. For a minute I thought I'd be rid of you early," she growled lightly as she lay back down. "Still, it's a bloody sick thing, knowing exactly how you're going to go in the end."

"I've made my peace with it. I've had a long time to think. Besides, I could just die out in the field. You never know." She made a face at him. "What, already can't live without me?" She turned over to lay face down with a mutter of "get over yourself". He sighed and glanced at the phone's clock. 4:23 am. Neither of them had been able to go back to sleep after Walter's untimely call, and after thirty minutes of tossing and turning Integra had started peppering him with questions about his life before being a Regenerator. He had to admit; it had been a welcome distraction from his thoughts but now that she'd seemed to quiet down he was feeling the weariness bearing on his mind once more.

"Maxwell didn't give you too hard of a time today, did he?" he looked over to see Integra peeking from under her elbow at him. He thought for a moment, unsure how to answer the question.

"I know how to deal with him. I did raise the boy, after all," he said slowly. "He didn't give you a hard time either?"

"If by hard time, you mean actually speaking to me then no. He just stared at me; he looked like he'd never seen a woman before." She leered at him, eyes mischievous. "I made sure to sit next to him on the pew, just to make him as uncomfortable as possible." Anderson gave her the same frown he reserved for misbehaving children before he could think and she laughed out loud at the look.

"He doesn't know what to think about all o' this. He's hated you for so long, he doesn't know how to react to me not feeling the same way." She huffed in reply and sank back down into her arms. He leaned back into the pillows, taking a good look at the woman beside him. He'd never really bothered to care about her physical appearance before, even though he knew she was aesthetically pleasing. He had to admit- he liked it better when he could see her legs. Her new gown wasn't as risqué as using a man's shirt as sleepwear, but it definitely showed off more of her and while he should have been happier to see her covered up like she should have been he felt more disappointed than anything.

She hadn't tried to forcibly throw herself on him tonight, either. He'd expected it, seeing as now she could claim that they were indeed married, and he'd even prepared a nice counterargument for when she did. He'd already decided that his normal Bible verses wouldn't work on her, seeing as she was usually able to quote something back at him; being a Christian woman in charge of a Christian organization he wasn't surprised that she had biblical knowledge, but it did make it much harder for him to fight her off. But tonight she acted the way she should have been acting the entire time; like the virgin she was. Yet here _he _was, actually wanting her to… the very thought should have sickened him. But then again, the more obnoxiously male side of his brain was protesting that she was his wife now. He focused most of his energy towards quashing the voice. It seemed to want to get him into a lot of trouble lately.

* * *

"I've angered you."

"No shit, Master." Her muffled voice sounded through the coffin lid and made him want to punch his fist through it and drag her out headfirst through the wood. But he tried to quell his anger, banishing the frustration from his voice as he sat next to the coffin and tried to coax her out. He looked with growing anger towards the door, where several of the humans and Walter were gathered and watching him closely. He smirked at them and Walter frowned, motioning once more to the unmoving coffin lid. He caught sight of Seras' doe-eyed little friend standing behind the butler, his mouth a thin line. Alucard brushed the soldier's thoughts and caught mental images of himself being torn apart for "doing this to poor Mum". The sneer slid off Alucard's face as he eyed the man, who was clearly afraid but met his gaze steadily. It was _his _fault that he was sitting here on the cold stones, talking to a hunk of wood and the depressed vampire within. If the boy hadn't told Walter about the entire ordeal _and _the shouting match the entire troop had overheard afterwards, then his existence would be that much easier. For the umpteenth time, he cursed the day he was given the order to never attack Hellsing men. Otherwise, Seras' companion would have met an unfortunate, bloody accident.

The police girl could rot away in her box until Judgment Day for all he cared, and he had told Walter that too. The only reason he was even in the room was because Walter had threatened to call his master and he'd then have the choice to be forced into it, or face whatever punishment Integra could think up on the fly. He'd been weighing his options when he remembered that with the Judas Priest there, she'd probably get some excellent ideas for vampire torture that she'd find perfectly acceptable. And he preferred doing this by his own choice anyway.

So there he was, crouched on his knee by the box and reasoning with the melancholy woman to come out and face the night. He had been absolutely certain that she was just hiding from him again, but when he'd flipped through her thoughts (and without any resistance; that was a first) he had found that she'd simply stopped caring for the moment. The only thing she'd bothered to do was tell him to not lay a single hand on her coffin. While he didn't normally let her boss him around and could easily just override her command, he didn't want _two _women absolutely livid with him in one night, and he had no doubts that his fledgling would run crying to Integra. His hands were tied, and he hated every moment of it.

"Police Girl, come out and we'll talk," he tried, only to get no reply. He arched a brow at the crowd outside the door, all of whom simply shrugged. They all had problems with women, be it an angry girlfriend or even a wife (or a mentally unstable ex-wife, in the case of Captain Penn).

Walter sniffed haughtily and turned to leave, taking the soldiers back upstairs with him to give the vampires their privacy. Surely, it was some supernatural thing to have such changeable moods. The poor girl was becoming more and more like her master with the passing seasons. Stevenson gave Alucard once last warning/terrified look before following the others.

"Police _Girl_." Alucard's patience was quickly wearing thin and he really wasn't in the mood to play games tonight. "_**Seras**_!" The only sound from the coffin was a small sniff and a sigh. Dramatic little… he growled under his breath and punched the stone next to the box, sending a small shower of pebbles into the air. "I am quickly becoming angry with you, Fledgling," he ground out, more surprised that he was warning her than anything. Since when had he become so lenient with her? "I'm about to drag you out of there and teach you what it means to upset me," he continued in a singsong tone, drumming his fingers on the cracked floor rapidly.

"If you touch this box, I'm going to hurt you!" the tinny voice spoke up from within. "Don't touch my coffin!" she repeated loudly. The demanding tone grated against his nerves and he almost broke his own teeth with the pressure of his jaw. That was _it. _He already had to take orders from one bitch; he wasn't planning on adding another to the list. He smacked the lid loudly and leaned over, ready to pry it open and give her a lesson she wouldn't soon forget.

The minute his finger grabbed the rim, the lid burst open and he was thrown back with a pounding pain in his skull. It took him a moment to get over the shock of it, but he sat up and tasted his own blood on his tongue, dripping down from his head. The coffin was empty and he realized that she had shot him point-blank in the forehead before running out of the room and down the hall. She was headed towards his room and he hissed before becoming mist, throwing himself through walls and reforming by his chair. He turned around to see her next to his coffin and he barely had time to make a noise before she kicked it sideways with a resounding thud. She pivoted on her heel, glaring at him with her pistol still in her hand.

"Did you like that!" she shrieked, waving the gun at him. "Other people touching your stuff? You didn't, did you, bloody prat!"

"You've gone completely insane." He began to stalk in her direction enraged beyond words. "Do you know who you're talking to, little girl?" Seras paled, but she steeled her jaw and looked ready to attack him.

"Of course I do, _my Master_," she simpered. He reached arm's length and she held up the pistol. "Don't you dare touch me!"

"Don't give me orders, Seras. That little toy gun you're hiding behind won't do a thing to me." He reached out for her and her eyes darted between his hand and her pistol before she threw it. His eyes automatically followed the arc of the gun through the air and she slammed into him, reaching around his belt to grab the Jackal before holding it up triumphantly. His vicious smile melted from his face when she turned the barrel to her chest, lining it up with her heart.

"You know, I've been thinking. If I'm going to be alone in this place forever, it's really just not worth it." She turned the safety off and looked almost fondly at the gun. "I'm sorry, Master. I didn't want to give you the burden of offing me." She placed her finger on the trigger and backed away, out of the path of the coffin where no blood would be sprayed on it.

"You've given up then?" Now it was his turn to dart back and forth between her chest and her eyes. She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before shaking her head.

"No, I just wanted to be in control of something for once." She began kicking a foot out, knocking on the coffin lightly with her heel. He was too agitated to tell her to stop doing it- why did he care? He didn't know, but he didn't want her to go to shoot herself. He wanted to grab her and shake her again, yelling that she was supposed to be different- not like the other women who'd chosen their own fate and not his. The knocking grew louder and he closed his eyes to ease his mind, and opened them… to face the lid of his coffin. There was an increasing sound right above his head and he opened it to see a sleepy Seras kneeling by it, her hand poised to knock again on the wood.

"What?" he said more sharply than he meant to, realizing with a jolt that it was only another nightmare. She looked away for a moment before reaching out and brushing his face, her hand coming back stained crimson. He touched his other cheek, his own hand confirming that once again, she'd caught him crying in his slumber.

"Master, you called me again." Seras looked concerned, obviously remembering the last time they'd been this way. He closed his eyes, exhaling and practically felt her eyes boring into his face as she waited on his floor.

"Sleep with me today, Seras." He felt her crawl into the coffin, tripping up on her pajamas and sprawling out over his chest before settling down and closing the lid over them. He felt her slight happiness that he'd been the one to ask for them to share a coffin, instead of the other way around. She relaxed next to him, weaving her arm around his and curling her legs up slightly. "Are you still angry?" he asked wood above his nose, not even wanting to look in her direction.

"I'm not angry, just… I'm just in a nark about it, is all. We'll get this thing sorted." She clutched his arm tightly and huffed. "I promise we will, even if it kills me."

"Arguing is not the most elegant way to leave the world." She stilled her fidgeting beside him.

"Who's going to care if I die or not?" she asked. "That boy, he died and no one even cares."

"His mistress does. And you do, apparently." His voice grew edgy and he swallowed, trying not to fight with her again. If she wanted to waste tears over a dead servant vampire, then let her. "That's more than "no one". As long as one person remembers you, does it matter if they even care or not?"

"Yes." She buried her face in his shoulder. "I think so," she whispered.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll just make sure that you won't die until you meet enough vampires who'll be around long after you're gone. You're so annoyingly innocent that they'd never forget you, even if they tried. Then you'll be remembered." He yawned quietly, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. She was quickly adding what little body heat she gave off to the cramped space, making it nice and warm. And he did sleep much better when she was close by.

"Master, that's not the solution," she argued, but he heard the slight smile in her voice.

"Go to sleep, Seras. Night will soon be here, and if I find you slacking in your training because you've been chattering in my ear all day, you'll be punished."

"Yes sir. Goodnight, Master." She rolled over on top of his arm, pushing her way into his body like a little child until she was resting her head on his chest.

"Good day, Police Girl."

* * *

"_Are you going to eat tonight?" Her husband leaned over, his mustache bristling as he watched her. She didn't have the will to answer him and after a moment he huffed. "Fine then. Waste away in bed. It won't be the first time." He turned, and in a moment the sound of a door closing proclaimed that he'd left the room. _

_She lay on the bed, cursing him for what he'd never understand. He'd not wanted a fledgling vampire- he didn't realize how her heart longed for her blonde angel, to see his smile and hear his accent. Her mind kept replaying the last memory she had of him- his eyes met hers with an imploring gaze before the silver light swung down, reflecting the crimson moonbeams as his neck was cleaved in two by the king himself. _

_It wasn't fair- the rules weren't fair! She hadn't told him to go to England and attack the girl again. She'd not told him to fight her directly. Now, because of his mistake- his youthful mistake, made in the innocence of the unknown- she'd never see him again. He didn't ever see the executions- he didn't know what two strikes on a record meant. How idiotic she was, not telling him! Why didn't she warn him of the dangers, of what would come if he failed this second time?_

_Her mind kept replaying her memories of him; how gentle he was with her Girls, how he longed to one day have a little fledgling of his own, how he'd smile and sing the songs of his people to her, letting her hear the proper French accent lilting over the syllables. And now, even if she yearned for just a part of him, she'd never have it. Alucard had been very thorough. She'd not been able to even scoop up some ashes to remember him by before they were scattered. _

"_It's really not fair," she spoke aloud. One of the Girls near her bed raised its head, chittering softly. She turned her head, brushing the dry hair back from the peeling skin, out of the way of some fluids draining from her brain. "It's really not fair, my dear," she said as she tried to think of the Girl's name. If only he was here- he kept all the Girls straight for her. "Why am I punished for his misdeeds? The king has gone too far." _

_Oh, she knew what she was saying. It was treason, talking against the king. And she hadn't told the Girls to kill Ruthven, either for that matter! She should have no strikes on her record! Did he not remember who she was? The king did enjoy practicing "eye for an eye" to keep his subjects in line. _

"_Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, childe for a childe." She sat up in bed, filled with a new sense of purpose. She'd die in the process, but she'd be sure that as she was dragged to Hell, the blonde Victoria girl was dragged with her. No longer did she want such a vile, naughty snippet for her collection. She just wanted to make that man suffer the way he did her. She licked her lips hungrily, ordering the Girls to fetch her bath and a new sister for dinner. She had vengeance to plan. _

* * *

**Afterword:** The only thing more frightening than Mrs. Báthory is Anderson and Integra singing a duet karaoke of "Total Eclipse of the Heart".

Well, that or "500 Miles".


	18. Prea Pasionat

` **Author's Note:** Welcome to Juju's pajama party! Bring out the Crunch n' Munch!

I've finally done it. I've finally confused myself with this damn timeline. And I had a typo last chapter, because I didn't reedit it. This chapter takes place on _**Saturday**_. The last Thursday would have been a full week since the story started.

I don't know why Anderson is supposed to be the personification of Frankenstein's monster. Frankenstein in anime? The only thing close is Dr. Stein. He's pretty badass, being as he's got a friggen' screw coming out of his head. Anderson's more of a good-guy Frollo. Except without the part about chasing a hunchback down with a sword. At least he'd sing "Hellfire" well.

Also, this Abigail is completely unrelated to the Abigail from my other fics. That Abigail was clearly a historian. Duh. But their personalities are astoundingly parallel, huh? ^o^

**Also, ALSO:** Be sure to follow my facebook page! You'll see sneak peeks and I might even hold contests and stuff on there if you guys are nice to me ;) Just search for Jubalii (Juju) and drop me a line!

* * *

"No. Absolutely not." Alucard leaned back in his chair, looking at the Draculina sprawled over the arm. "I refuse to be caught up any more in this farce then I have to be."

"I'm not asking you to be there; I'm just saying that it's proper manners to give a gift and I think it should be from both of us." She looked down at the tiny wooden box in her hands, sneaking another peek under the lid. "Besides, it's so pretty. I know she'll appreciate it." She smiled at him, shuffling the box between her hands as she waited.

Seras may have been thrown off as a blonde, or perhaps an innocent young lady, but she was more than she seemed to be. For one, she could do the one thing that no one else could: she could read Alucard. He was an open book to her sometimes; maybe not in every circumstance, but she knew what he was thinking a good deal of the time. And besides that, she could do something else very important- she could change his mind. And 99% of the time, it worked. She knew it when he broke: his eyebrows would sag and he'd frown, his shoulders slumping by the tiniest bit and he'd eventually look away, blinking slowly as his left hand twitched on his thigh. Then he'd agree to whatever it was she wanted with a growl of "I really don't care, Seras."

She tapped the toe of one boot against the stone floor, looking inside the box at the gift she'd chosen within. It was a treasure she'd found while rummaging through Alucard's cabinet, pushing aside the golden cutlery and a dragon statue as she looked for a proper gift. She'd found the tiny, unassuming wooden box in the far corner and had opened it only to squeal in delight. Her gift would meet Sir's standards perfectly. And all she had to do now was convince Alucard to throw his name on it as well. It was his treasure, after all. It was only right that he had a hand in giving it to her. Looking at him once more, she felt her grin pull even more tightly across her face and clutched the box to her chest.

"I really don't care, Seras."

* * *

Integra couldn't stop her foot from moving as she stood outside the church in wait. Alucard had called her to sullenly report that he was bringing Seras and she'd had a brief moment of victory as Anderson gazed at her phone, dumbfounded that "the creature really did give in to the lass!" After that, Maxwell had all but beaten him through the door for some sort of preparation, leaving her with a strange woman and Renaldo.

The woman introduced herself as Abigail, the priest's sister. Biological sister, that was, as her style of clothing showed the world that she was the farthest thing from a nun that there could be, besides a porn star. She claimed that she worked as a makeup artist, but besides that she was always the stand-in witness at "these types of weddings".

"What types?" Integra had snapped as she crossed her arms. The dark-haired woman didn't bat a single mascara-coated eyelash.

"The Maxwell types of course," she drawled-out with a wink. Father Renaldo coughed politely and walked away as Abigail latched onto the blonde's shoulder with an iron grip. "I don't care much for such a dry personality, but he always brings his little assassin-well, _employees_ from the England branch here. So I see a lot of him." She had then begun to wait with Integra as they searched the streets for the third party.

"I'm guessing that it's the one with the umbrella, knowing you people?" Abigail asked dryly, pointing out a black parasol bobbing above the crowd and clearly made of material only found in a black hole seeing as the pale figure underneath was completely out of the sunlight.

"That's her," Integra said weakly with a nod. Her stomach was really beginning to churn now. She needed a cigar- damn, but she needed one. Or a hammer to knock herself out with; whatever would effectively calm her nerves. Taking one look at her soldier, she almost choked. "Can't you be a bit more inconspicuous?" she squeaked. Seras was wearing Alucard's orange sunglasses and a long black business coat over a light blue formal dress, holding a wooden box and large duffel bag in one hand and the parasol in the other. Integra looked up at the huge umbrella, only to see the shadows that made the fabric move and a faint pair of red eyes leered at her for a moment before fading away. She growled under her breath. "That thing's not coming in the back with us."

"Sorry, but I had another stop to make in London and Mas-_Alucard_ said that I shouldn't walk around in the sun for too long. It might hurt my…" she paused and looked over at Abigail, who was listening intently. "Complexion," she finished lamely. Integra frowned as Abigail reached over and grabbed Seras' shoulder as well before guiding them both to a room in the back of the church, chattering away like a parrot talking to itself. Seras placed the sunglasses, shadow-parasol and business coat on the table in the foyer before following the humans back. Abigail took one look at the crimson gaze before blinking twice.

"Nice contacts." Seras gave her a closed-lipped smile and shook her head.

"Actually, it's porphyria. Very advanced." Abigail nodded absently, her eyes blank as she clearly had no idea what porphyria meant. Integra rolled her eyes and the Seras winked behind Abigail's back, mouthing "Master said" and shrugging. Clearly, Seras didn't have any better idea of what porphyria was.

In the room, a chair had been set out in the middle in front of a wall and a table in the middle held an assortment of cosmetics. Integra immediately began to backtrack like a cat facing a baptism, shaking her head and scrambling to escape her two captors.

"Oh, no-no, no, no! I do _not _wear makeup, not at all." Abigail grinned wildly and forced the woman down into the chair.

"On your wedding day, you do." She picked up a suspicious looking brush, only to be pushed away lightly by Seras.

"Wait- I want to do her hair first, before you start the makeup. It's going to take me thirty minutes at least," she explained as she sat her bag on the floor and unzipped it to reveal an array of tools that would put any hairdresser to shame. Abigail nodded sagely and went to the door.

"Good, I hadn't thought of hair. You do that while I get the dress ready. It's got to be brushed free of the dust and I think a pearl is coming loose." Her face became thoughtful as she made her way out the door.

"D-dress? Hair?! Agent Victoria, I demand you stop this!" Integra protested feebly, trying to evade the vampire's deft hands as she quickly began to pull a comb through the poor woman's blonde hair. Integra was beginning to feel more of a prisoner in the chair than she ever did at the actual prison. She finally gave up against Seras' enhanced speed and sat still with a pout as she was worked on. "Where'd you get all those?" she asked warily as she watched the Draculina heat up a curling iron.

"I have an acquaintance from the orphanage; when I was in the Police Academy, I needed a part-time job to pay my rent and she offered to let me work in her salon. I learned all about how to fix hair, so don't worry." She turned around with the steaming iron, looking like an executioner with a torture instrument. "You're in good hands."

"Uh huh." Integra sat still enough to please her attacker as her hair was tugged gently in different directions, sprayed, softened, and pulled up off her neck in some way. Seras finally backed up and smiled victoriously before picking up the wooden box.

"This is all that's left to complete my masterpiece. It's your wedding gift, from Master and me." She opened the box and showed Integra its contents, noting happily as the woman's eyes lit up in awe. It was a sapphire comb, its individual stones making up the blue petals and the hand worked metal for the teeth making up the roots of what appeared to be a dogwood tree with tiny emeralds for the leaves. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," Integra couldn't help but pick up the fragile looking piece of art and turning it over in her hands. "Are-are these all real stones?" she blurted out. "It has to be worth a fortune!"

"I wouldn't know how much it costs. I got it from a secret place. But it's all yours. And it counts as your "something blue"." Integra pursed her lips and glared as best she could, but the door burst open and the only thing she saw was a billow of white with a mass of dark curls coming out somewhere from the top.

"Don't breathe too hard in it, love. That pearl's hanging on with a lick and a prayer, bless it." Abigail emerged from the mountain of pearls and her eyes widened. "Wow! You've done quite a work of art there!" she complimented Seras. Integra's hand migrated to her hair and she barely felt the edge of the bun before Seras slapped her hand away.

"Don't mess with it," she warned as she took the comb back and stuck it somewhere in the pile of hair. "You don't want it to fall. Now then," she backed away and took the dress as Abigail surged forward, brushes in both hands.

"Time for the makeup! My goal today," she announced to the room in general, "is to give every priest in that chapel a hard-on the minute they see you, save my brother because he's too much of a puss-" she clapped a hand over her mouth and gazed at the tiny picture of Jesus on the wall. "Sorry, Lord. Guess I shouldn't be saying that in a church." She grinned sheepishly. "He's too _girly _to care about a pretty young woman in front of him." Integra looked up at her, astounded at the woman's gall. She was given a steady glare back before her face was angled to the light. "Nevertheless, you're going to be beautiful."

Integra sat quietly, meekly obeying the woman's orders to close her eyes and smudge this, touch that, and the ever popular "don't blink while I'm doing this!" After what seemed like an eternity, she also stepped back and looked upon her creation admirably. "Gorgeous. Now, let's get you in that dress so that you can see yourself." They pushed the tight outfit up her body as she mentally cursed them for not letting her go out there in her suit. She felt exposed, with the dress having no sleeves or even straps and her bare shoulders to the world. However, the two women oohed and aahed at her before opening the tiny closet and bringing her over to the mirror hanging on the inside of the door. "And now, the reveal!" Abigail said dramatically, pushing the barefoot woman in front of the mirror.

For a moment, Integra didn't recognize herself. The woman staring back at her was a princess come to life, not a burnt-out woman with an organization to run who was about to agree to spend the rest of her life in the arms of a hulking priest with a heavy accent. She only realized who it was when the reflection mirrored her movements, one slender hand coming up to cup her cheek as she surveyed herself.

The tight dress was rather revealing, coming down to her feet, but showing off her entire upper torso. It pushed up her breasts, making them the center of attention and while the support was nice, she wasn't used to seeing her cleavage on display like that. The tiny pearls in the bodice splayed down into brilliant floral patterns across her flat stomach, resting in a makeshift belt around her waist. Integra half-wondered _how _in the hell Abigail had noticed that only one out of a million was slightly loose.

She looked up at her hair, amassed elegantly on her skull with wispy curls made from her bangs framing her face and the comb placed neatly on the edge of the complicated bun, making her look young and… beautiful. Integra realized with a jolt that she'd never really felt attractive before, but now she understood the appeal. It was nice, seeing yourself in a different way. The makeup wasn't as heavy as she'd thought it would be, enhancing her features instead of creating new ones. The mascara lengthened her lashes and the powder lightened her tone, making her look rather delicate. Seras peered around over her shoulder and gave her a thumbs-up.

"You should wear makeup more often, Sir. It's nice on you." She didn't reply, instead looking around at Abigail, who was blinking back tears for some odd reason.

"You're gorgeous, darling!" she said in a cracked voice, picking up a small bouquet and handing it to her and placing a pair of white flats for her to step into. Integra looked down at the flowers, feeling strange. She looked at Seras.

"I'm going to be ill," she said faintly. Seras' face paled and she grabbed the tiny can in the corner, holding it up.

"It's alright; just some pre-marital jitters. You've already got all the good luck on your side," she said helpfully. Integra stared at her and she chuckled abashedly. "You know, "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue and a sixpence in your shoe?" You've got all the luck you'll need then." Abigail nodded in agreement. "Your comb's blue, remember?" Seras pointed out again.

"Right, and that dress is mine; you're borrowing it because I'm not letting you go out there in men's clothes on your wedding day. And even with all that fertility crap- I've got three kids, so you're good there. And the makeup's brand new, just opened it this morning." She looked back at Seras with a grin. "And I invested a good 20£ in those flats, so you can technically say there's a sixpence in those shoes.

"Your glasses can be considered old…" Seras said hesitantly as she slid the frames onto her boss's face. "There. Very pretty." Integra adjusted them on her nose and caught sight of the ring. Anderson had charged himself a plain silver band for a wedding ring to the Vatican Accounting Agency's account number (he'd claimed that he'd just deal with them later when they inevitably came looking for him) and offered to buy her one, but she'd honestly told him that she'd rather wear his ring.

Somehow, the old silver had grown on her as it sat on her thumb and she'd become rather fond of it. They'd managed to convince the jeweler to size the antique to fit on her ring finger. She decided that if luck was going to be on her side, she might as well count the ring as her "something old".

"Are you ready?" She looked up to see the priest sticking his head in the door. Abigail nodded for her, shooing the man out and fixing Integra's train before pointing her in the direction of the chapel with a wave. Seras walked behind her, practically pushing the woman to the door.

"Don't worry, Sir. I'm going to be right behind you every step of the way, so you can fall back on me if you need to." Integra felt her heart swell with the vampire's assuring words. Seras was supposed to be walking ahead of her like a proper maid-of-honor, but she'd proclaimed that she'd rather walk behind, and now she could see why. Integra wasn't sure she could even move if the woman's hands weren't steadfastly shoving her to the double doors. She heard Abigail's chatter already coming from inside (had the woman sprinted, or did she know of a shortcut to take?) and her heart began to sound in her ears, drumming out her nervousness.

"Sir Integra, look at me." She was spun around and came nose-to-nose with Seras. "You are Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, aren't you?" Seras growled impatiently.

"Y-yes."

"Well then, why are you acting like a little kid? Get some confidence! Go out there looking like a scared sheep, and you're going to be laughed at by the Vatican! When you go through those doors, I want you to look like you've belonged there. Strut down that aisle like you own it- you _do_ own it, Sir! You've got guts!" She did a mini fist pump at her own pep talk and Integra smiled halfheartedly before closing her eyes. She focused on calming her overdrive heart, and after a long moment she opened them with newfound fire.

"Seras, let's go," she ordered and the Draculina beamed and threw her cold arms around Integra's bare shoulders. She shivered at the contact with the cold skin—she'd never noticed how vampires really did feel as if they were dead, but then again most of the time they all had more clothing on—and pushed the girl off of her before clutching her flowers and nodding for Seras to open the door.

She paused for only the briefest moment, her eyes focused on the priest standing at the altar before taking her first steps. She felt Seras behind her and heard the vampire's voice in the back of her mind, unsure if Seras was doing it on purpose or if she was so excited that she was accidentally broadcasting her thoughts. _Go Sir Integra! You've got this! _The vampire's mental cheering gave her enough confidence to look around the room as she walked.

Maxwell was standing next to Anderson with his mouth agape, jaw about to come unhinged and fall to the carpet-covered stairs. His eyes were wide, looking as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Father Renaldo was smiling appreciatively from one pew, giving her a slight nod when he caught her gaze. Abigail was almost bouncing in her pew, her expression ecstatic. The priest was looking generally happy about the whole situation, his chubby cheeks dimpled with his soft grin. But Anderson- Anderson was simply staring, nothing more. There was no expression evident on his face, other than the fact that wasn't blinking and just followed her up to the pulpit with his eyes. She looked up at him, slightly alarmed by the blank countenance until he inhaled and she comprehended that he'd been holding his breath the entire time. She looked forward with a bewildered frown, squeezing the life out of the flower's stems as the priest began to speak.

She was pretty sure most of the wedding speech was for the audience's benefit, because she wasn't paying a lick of attention and she was pretty sure Anderson wasn't either. She kept trying to sneak a glance at him out of the corner of her eye- she'd never seen the cassock he was wearing before and the sash he had on was decorated with at least a dozen different medals and tassels for various awards in honor of his work in the Church, from what she could tell. He stood ramrod straight next to her, barely touching as they both recited their parts quietly. She could feel Maxwell's eyes boring into her head as he openly stared at her.

The priest looked happily at them and declared them to be married before God. She let out a small sound of relief, feeling him relax as well as the man congratulated them on their new covenant and blah-blah-blah. He looked towards Maxwell, who cleared his throat and muttered something that sounded more like condolences than congratulations before following the priest out of the room with Father Renaldo in tow. Seras bounced on top of her again and Abigail plucked at her dress, still going on about the pearl. Anderson stood in the middle of it all like a buoy as everyone meandered around him. Seras kept sneaking glances before she stood in front of him, holding out her hand with minimal trembling.

"W-welcome to the family, I suppose. I hope we'll work well together," she managed to squeak out as she stared up at him. Integra felt a strange sort of pity for her; she was so small—already miniaturized around her master, much less the gigantic priest who more resembled Goliath than anything particularly holy.

"Aye, lass." He shook her hand, wincing at the contact before breaking away. "It'll take some getting used to." He looked down at the glove with a grimace, as though her hand had soiled the white material somehow. "I-I'm surprised your little beastie didn't come to spoil the occasion," he half-growled. Seras snorted, trying to hold in her laughter.

"He's been in my head this entire time; he's been asking if it was over for fifteen minutes already." When Anderson gave her a suspicious look, she shrugged. "I told him if he wanted me that badly, to come in here and find me."

"And that I did." The smooth voice echoed across the chapel, sending shivers down the humans' spines. Integra whirled around to see Alucard standing in the double doors, dressed in his business suit and having reclaimed his sunglasses and cloak. Seras squeaked in surprise and he gave her a cold sneer. "You left my things out in the open, thoughtless girl. I'd be angry if they came up missing." Abigail slowly backed away before disappearing through a side door, leaving the four of them alone with their privacy.

"Sorry, sir." Seras seemed rather unfazed by the icy attitude, instead cocking her head like a puppy and watching as he walked down the aisle towards them. He tilted his head down slightly as he looked over the rims of his glasses at Integra. She met his gaze frostily, her mouth set in a thin line. Finally, he knocked the glasses back up his nose and Seras ran over to stand beside him. He casually draped an arm over her shoulders, letting the heavy business suit fall over her hair and she peered from beneath the shade at the humans with a smug grin that echoed the man standing next to her.

"So, she let you do it?" he asked Seras as he kept his eyes steady on his master. "I'm impressed, Police Girl. You've made our bud of a master blossom." Seras colored at the praise, the pale cheeks darkening only slightly under his arm. Integra growled at him, warning him with her eyes not to cause trouble.

"Quiet, servant. I don't want to hear your mockery tonight." Alucard managed to appear offended.

"Mockery?!" he gasped dramatically. "I was honest in the praise of my fledgling's prowess with hair-fixing. She seems to always be amusing me with her talents." It was clear that he was being truthful, and she saw Anderson's face take on a shocked expression before he stared intently at the tiny girl underneath her master's jacket with a newfound curiosity. Integra snarled, but before she could get two words out Anderson nearly knocked her off her feet as he wormed an arm around her shoulders and tugged her over. Clutching her tightly, he glared daggers at the black-clad man before him.

"It's clear you didn't come here to do good, ye monster. What _did_ you come for, so you can get it and leave?" His voice was polite and level, but filled with an undercurrent of loathing. Alucard mimicked his position, pulling Seras by her arm until she was almost standing on his boots and tucking her more firmly against his waist.

"I came here for my fledgling, naturally," he replied with a smirk, but his eyes were silently challenging the paladin to make a move. The two men faced off silently from each side of the aisle, their women caught up in the fiery battle. Integra looked at Seras, who looked between Alucard and Anderson several times before shrugging. Clearly, whatever was going on wasn't a culture breach or even a religious one; rather it was just a "man thing". Finally, Seras reached up and cautiously plucked Alucard's lapel with a finger.

"Master, the salon closes at 6:00 and I have to have those tools back by then," she said pleadingly. Alucard let her go, turning slightly to watch her run to the back before addressing Integra.

"Well, what will you do now, my master?" he said with a knowing grin. "Return to your hotel room?"

"None of your business."

* * *

When Seras returned, holding the heavy bag as though it were lighter than air, she was caught up again under her master's arm. Fighting her way back to the open air, she snapped her fingers and gestured to Integra.

"I almost forgot- are you alright? I heard about you losing your gun; I bet you were ambushed by those nasty Sirens, weren't you?" The bride looked blankly at her soldier before turning to Anderson. He shrugged and she turned back quietly, her face pensive.

"Seras, I didn't lose my gun. It's at the hotel, in my bag. I didn't bring it today because I was going to be in the church," she said slowly. Seras shook her head.

"No, that boy—the one who attacked me—he said that he had your gun. "The Hellsing woman's gun turned up at my castle" or some sort of thing. I assumed you lost it in a battle." Anderson and Integra exchanged another, more concerned glance. Alucard looked down at Seras, and she met his gaze to see that he was grinding his fangs together- a sure sign that something was beginning to worry him.

"Are you certain of this, lass?" Anderson blurted, his eyes narrowing. "I'm sure we haven't left that room except for once or twice. It must be a mistake."

"No she's right, I haven't checked the gun today—and it's not your average pistol. It belonged to my father- a custom-made firearm." Integra shivered suddenly and the vampires watched the goose bumps appear on her shoulders. "I wonder…. Alucard, didn't you tell me once that a vampire's scent is more potent than any other creatures—when we were up against that South American cult?"

"That's right. All vampires have a fragrance that is much stronger than any of the lesser creatures, save the FREAKS, who still smell like humans." He seemed rather proud of the admission. "Even you humans can sense it." Integra looked at Seras, remembering when the girl had hugged her loosely in the foyer. She had smelled it on the girl, of course—every vampire she'd ever come across always smelled of blood and wet dirt, and although it wasn't a particularly _bad _smell it was powerful enough to overwhelm you if they never bathed. Even Alucard managed to stick his head under some water (or in some cases, have his ass kicked out in the rain) every once in a while to stifle the odor, but Seras had another scent on top of her own vampire musk- shampoo. It was floral and very aromatic.

"Seras, you use that same brand of shampoo all the time- it masks the vampire smell somewhat." Anderson looked over with a sniff, as if trying to distinguish the smell from where he stood in the far end of the altar (as far away from the vampires as he could get while still being within an arm's length of Integra; as if she even needed protection from her own servants). Alucard curled his lip in disdain.

"Yes, she insists on using that chemical gunk. When her hair's wet I can smell it…across…the—" His eyes widened and he looked down at Seras before letting out a long string of curses in at least three languages. "What fucking idiots we are."

"We've been leading them right to us—they've been using Seras as a way of following our trail. She'd been in our room that one night when you all fought—even if it was days ago, could they still track it?" Integra asked, the horrible realization falling on her as well. They were a bloody pack of fools; why hadn't she thought of all this before? Those creatures had been in the hotel room, and if they only were a bit smarter she'd have been a sitting duck in there. Not to mention the danger that they'd all unknowingly put the mansion in. No wonder it had taken that boy no time to find Seras! She broadcasted herself across the entire countryside without meaning to!

"Yes, it would have been easy for Sirens- they have a very good sense of smell." Seras was listening to all this with a growing look of terror on her face and she nearly tackled Alucard.

"Master! I walked here to the church—they may already be coming! We have to get out of here!" she stammered. Alucard threw his coat on top of her head and nodded once before they dissipated into thin air. Integra picked up her dress with both hands, intending on running back to the room and getting changed.

"I've got to call Walter; he may be in danger," she informed Anderson over her shoulder. He helped her down the stairs and nodded before pulling his cellular out of the cassock's inner pocket.

"We aren't going back to that hotel," he declared.

"But-my things!" she stopped and turned back to face him. "What about my clothes?"

"I'm calling Wolfe; she'll get them and meet us in town." Integra shrugged and ran out into the foyer, where Abigail looked up from her own phone. The friendly smile fell from her face when she saw the hurried look in the bride's eyes.

"Something wrong?" she asked in concern. Integra nodded and began to make her way down the hall with the woman in tow.

"I need to get changed right away; something very important has come up."

* * *

Anderson picked around his food, trying his best to keep his gaze from falling on the woman across the table. Integra was alternating between devouring her pastrami and babbling on about what they should do, why they needed to do this, where they were going to stay next, etc. Truth be told, he was only half-listening; more often than not he let the pub's noise drown her words and sat among his own thoughts.

He hadn't done a double-take when she walked through the church doors: he hadn't been able to look away from her until she was next to him at the altar steps. Her entire being had the appearance of confidence, but he'd noticed how her little vampiress had to prod her into motion. She'd stunned the whole company gathered there, save the women. He had almost laughed aloud at Maxwell as the poor archbishop had been amazed into silence by the beauty walking down the aisle. He had to give the lasses credit; they knew how to turn the woman into a virtual goddess. He'd known that those curves had been there, but it was different when he saw them flattered to the best possible angle.

Besides that, in their hurry to vacate the church and save the priest and his loud sister, she'd not taken the makeup off or her hair down. Now, she was sitting across from him with her hair still piled up on her head, her elegant neckline on display through the opening of the suit coat. And those wispy curls kept bringing his eyes back to her glasses where they only enhanced the makeup on her lashes and framed her eyes, which were more cerulean than ice blue with the color on her lids. He'd gone so long without noticing women and what they were wearing, and now that he was allowed to look again he was becoming steadily more aware of how much he missed it.

"Alexander!" the sharp tone brought him back to reality and he blinked at her irritated expression, realizing that he'd missed the last fifteen minutes of whatever she was saying. "You weren't listening to me," she accused knowingly.

"I'm a bit distracted this evening," he muttered before taking another bite of pasta, which was a bit more al dente than he wanted it to be. He crunched down on the noodles musingly, wishing that Heinkel would hurry up and get there. He knew she'd been in London and had to travel a ways, but surely it didn't take that long to go get one bag packed up and brought to town.

"Well, get over it. I'll be the first to admit that you'll be able to count the times I look this dressed up on one hand when I die. I don't make it a habit to wear makeup, and my hair doesn't do this naturally at all."

"Shame," he replied dismissively. She bit into her sandwich viciously and chewed as she frowned at him.

"Your coworkers are very unpunctual. Is this a habit of theirs?" He nodded and pushed away his plate. He really couldn't eat crunchy things. It reminded him too much of the trenches, when there wasn't enough to go around and they were forced to eat insect infested food. Grimacing, he neatly placed his silverware on top and waved for the woman to carry it away. Integra looked at him strangely. "You didn't have to get offended over it. I was just asking."

"It's not that. The pasta was undercooked," he murmured, and she immediately offered him the second half to her pastrami.

"Here, I won't eat it all anyway. I was going to wrap it up and take it with us, but eat it if you want." He hesitated a moment before accepting the half as his stomach protested its hunger. He began to pull apart the sandwich and took out the tomatoes before inhaling the meal. He looked up to see her smiling at him, clearly amused by his hurried attitude. "No one was going to steal it from you."

"You learn as a soldier to eat quickly; it's a habit I never lost." She ate her last bite, licking a bit of sauce from her finger before wiping her mouth and sitting back in the chair, satisfied. They sat in silence after the woman came to take the last plates away, sipping their drinks and listening to the pub's noisy bar as the team on the television screen scored some sort of goal.

"I'm full and my house is safe," she proclaimed at last. "As long as it stays that way, I'm fine." He tilted his head on one hand and looked at her wearily. Not even married a full 24 hours and she was already tiring him out. He wondered where she got such energy. She wasn't bouncing off the walls, but her subdued demeanor was full of it. "What?" He jerked back to attention again and she growled, crossing he arms over her chest. "Stop staring."

"Who's staring? I told you I'm just thinking," he snapped back irritably. She arched a brow and he felt her leg brush his under the table. He moved away, giving her a warning look and she met his expression with her own challenging glare. He sighed, wishing for once that she'd of stayed the quiet, alien woman she'd been last night. _All good things must come to an end…_

"There you are." The German accent was both worried and annoyed. "I've looked all over this place for you. Why couldn't you have sat in the open?" Heinkel appeared from seemingly nowhere, giving him the messy bag of clothing, with articles and one corner of a book spilling out of the hastily packed satchel. She made a face at the look he gave her. "Don't start Anderson. I know: sloppiness doesn't get the job done. But I didn't want to be caught in there without a key. I already had enough of a hard time sliding past the front doors." She waited for him to reply, but he only gave her a pained expression and his eyes flashed briefly to the Hellsing woman, who was smiling rather wickedly and moving slightly in her seat. Heinkel gave her a second look in surprise—she'd never seen the woman so…fancy-looking. At least, she was a lot prettier with her hair out of her face.

"So, um… _Herzlichen Glückwunsch_, I suppose," she muttered with a half-nod before slowly backing away into the crowd and disappearing.

"I'm going to hope that meant something nice," Integra said as she moved her boot further up the priest's leg, practically resting it on his thigh with a syrupy smile. He looked as if he was going to throw the table on top of her and run, but he only stood and pulled out his card.

"Let me pay, and then we'll leave. Here's your bag." He handed it to her robotically and turned to make his way to the front desk. She watched him leave, her eyes dropping back to her bag as she stuffed the things more neatly and closed the clasp. She swallowed the edging nervousness at what she was trying to accomplish before the night was over before rising to meet him and slinging the bag over her shoulder. She was married now- the time for being coy was far behind her.

* * *

"_Waaaallllter!" _Seras held her hands out imploringly to the butler as he walked into Alucard's chambers with the metal bucket of ice and a bottle of wine. "_Help meeeee!" _Her cries became muffled as her cheek was pulled flush with her master's. The older vampire forcefully rubbed their cheeks together like two cats before pulling her back onto the chair as she fought to escape over the arm.

"I apologize; am I intruding on something?" the butler asked politely as he walked over and sat the meal on the table next to the chair, looking down at the poor blonde in amusement.

"Yes," Alucard hissed as he patiently pulled the girl back into the seat, looming over her and rubbing her hair with his hands. "Go away."

"No, please help me! He won't let me go!" Seras pushed her master's hands away, only to be pulled up by her shoulders as the man sniffed her hair deeply and growled in frustration. "Stop it!"

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish, Alucard?" Walter peered around the man's shoulder, taking a cautious sniff of his own. He didn't smell anything other than the irony fragrance that hung around all Nosferatu.

"This damn hair-soap smell won't go away. I'm trying to cover her scent," he explained irritably as he bent his head down again to rub his neck over her forehead. She screeched and fought as her hair started to become frizzy from the motions. Walter covered his mouth with one hand, trying to stop the smile from stretching across his face. He'd often likened Alucard to a beast in man's guise; his sometimes animalistic nature wasn't hard to miss, after all—and he couldn't help but look at the scene in front of him and see a mother cat bathing her kitten, except this unfortunate kitten didn't want any part of it.

"I hope that it works out for you; I'm sorry Miss Victoria, but I wouldn't dare interfere." He held a hand up at the Draculina's cry of protest. "Sir Integra has already explained the situation to me, and I agree wholeheartedly that the best place you could be right now is with Alucard. And if he insists on this being the best plan of action, who am I to stop him?" Besides, it was hilarious, watching them together. Walter smiled apologetically and turned to leave, tuning out the poor girl's dismayed yelps and shutting the door firmly behind him.

"Hold still and it won't take so long." Alucard bent down further onto the seat and pressed her entire body against his, ignoring her exclamations. "You're the one who insists on bathing every day." Seras opened her mouth to retort, only to let out a shuddering groan as he licked up the side of her face.

"Gross! Eww, No one's tongue should be that bloody long!" she finally managed to break away from his hold on her, jumping over the table and wiping her cheek on her sleeve. "_Cor_ Master; that's just icky!" She looked down at her rumpled uniform and grumbled to herself as she grabbed the seldom-used comb on his cupboard and got to work righting her hair. She noted in disgust that his scent was all over her now- it made her smell like she'd covered herself in drenched soil and rolled around in a spice rack, mixing with her own familiar smell. She needed another shower now.

"No. No showers." She looked in the dusty mirror at the back of the chair witheringly and slammed the comb on the cupboard, rattling the items within. Stomping back to the chair, she curled her nose at the sight of him all sprawled out, looking satisfied with himself.

"Are you happy now?" she asked reproachfully, kicking out at one of his boots. He looked up at her and sniffed twice.

"It's going to take longer to get you properly cleaned of all those chemicals, but for the moment it's fine." He regarded her, a smile spreading slowly among his features as he patted one thigh. "Come, sit with me."

"No. You're irritating." She backed away from the throne, crossing her arms and running a hand through her hair. She had half a mind to go stick her head in the sink, just to wash the musk off and make him mad.

"Try it and I'll hold you under," he warned gleefully as he read her thoughts. He held out one arm, the light reflecting off his glasses and shining as two bright orange holes in the shadow of his hat. "Come, my little Seras." She scoffed and looked away, trying to stop the color from spreading into her cheeks. She knew that _he _knew she loved it when he said her name like that. It wasn't natural, this attraction she felt to his voice. She couldn't pretend it was a master/childe thing anymore. It was a Seras/Alucard thing. And he knew it, smug bastard.

"Take off your glasses." He paused, but did as she asked. Now, it was the crimson irises that blazed out from the shadows; a look she was beginning to know well, even if she wasn't sure exactly what emotion it was. He didn't have that many to choose from—it shouldn't have been so hard to discern his feelings.

"Why?" he asked her as she gave in and walked over to him, letting him tug her into his lap and run a hand over her thigh possessively.

"Because I like to see your eyes. Then I know what you're thinking." He laughed: a short, tactless sound that was anything but happy.

"You know nothing of what I'm thinking, little liar." He raked his claws over the exposed skin between her boots and her skirt and she winced as welts rose on the pale skin.

"What'd you do that for?" she whined as she rubbed her leg. He looked at her hand running across the skin, not saying a word. He placed his hand on top of hers, rubbing with her before traveling on up her arm. She shivered and gave him a stern glance. "Master is being very touchy-feely tonight," she teased. He paused again.

"You know why," he replied with a suggestion of hate. She made a face at him and buried down into his vest.

"I don't want to think about that. It's nasty."

"It's certainly nightmare material, isn't it?" he sounded mixed, as though he wasn't sure if he was revolted or amused. She chuckled, the sound stifled by his chest.

"You're going to be mocking her relentlessly, aren't you?" He grinned savagely.

"Naturally; I'll be hard on both of them. We'll have to gang up on them, Seras." She giggled and rose up.

"What, we'll tag-team them into submission? We're going to be hung up on the outside wall with bayonets and used as shooting targets!"

"Yes- they wouldn't appreciate our efforts at all, would they?" She shook her head and he laughed again, a real laugh this time. "We might need to have a place to lie low until the newlyweds simmer down."

"We'll travel to Siberia. They wouldn't be able to find us there, and I like snow."

"Is that it? I'd rather go someplace a bit more populated. I don't want to go hungry."

"Norway?" she answered hopefully.

"No. I meant somewhere like, oh say Greece. You'd like the ruins there."

"Too many Sirens. I don't want to see any more than I have to. Italy?"

"No. Too many Catholics. I'm already dreading the amount that will be filtering in and out of our doors soon enough."

"Turkey."

"Absolutely not."

"America?" He simply grinned. "Fine, we'll just go on a seaside holiday and frighten teenagers on the beaches."

"Ah, Police Girl- what if you fall in? I'm not fishing you out and you're not going to die. You'll just sit on the bottom of the ocean until you starve."

"I'll develop an immense love of sushi. Any other issues?" He shook his head and she lay back against his chest, watching the candles flicker in their holders.

"Stay here today, Seras." His hands tightened on her legs as he held her.

"I will, don't worry."

"Seras, do you care for me?"

"We've had this conversation before. Yes, I do. You're my master."

"Why do you hold onto human stipulations?"

"I don't know. Why do you pretend you don't care about anything?" She felt him jerk beneath her slightly and raised her eyes to look at the underside of his jaw, clutching the crimson fabric of his jacket firmly.

"I don't. Pretend." She exhaled slowly.

"Master, do you care for _me_?"

"You're still here, aren't you?"

"Very funny."

* * *

It was fire, burning his insides and leaving only a smoldering heap of emotion that made him sick with want. And he didn't have to feel that way; she'd give herself to him, she'd tried to before, at least twice. Well, once- if you count that the other time she wasn't in her right mind. She'd tended him, caressed him, kissed him and quivered under his touch, no matter how minimal. But it had been nothing more than lust.

Or had it? He respected her, even liked her to an extent. It wasn't love, but it wasn't wholly lust either. It was mixture of a great number of things that just happened to fall together in a slapdash way and apparently worked. It was more along the lines of something that they both shared, that each understood and if they kept feeling mutually, could be built upon. Intimacy: that was a better word for it.

He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, the reflection showing uncertainty and anticipation in his expression. He sighed and frowned, reminding himself for the umpteenth time that he had a procedure to follow. Whatever he wanted to do to her, he could just go ahead and forget it. The bare minimum— a simple act between a man and a woman.

_Oh, sure lad. You remember it now, alone with your thoughts. But are you going to be holding back she's under you, gasping and begging for— _He jolted in surprise as a loud crunch filled the tiny space and a chunk of fake-marble counter came off in his hand. He looked at it for a moment and the door opened, his new wife poking her head around with an alarmed expression. When she saw the counter, she grinned.

"You run up big repair bills, don't you?" she asked sardonically. He debated on throwing the marble at her head, but he really couldn't decide whether hitting her would knock her out or not.

"This is why I can't…" he started as he tossed the marble in his hand once or twice before placing it back on the counter. He wasn't sure how to finish it in a way that wouldn't embarrass him. "I can't just let go," he finally admitted.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head up at him, and he looked away. She was still dressed in her clothing, although without the suit coat and tie and her shirt was unbuttoned down to her collarbone, most likely to give herself some air. She hadn't even taken her hair down, although she'd already scrubbed the makeup off the minute they arrived. He stifled a groan and tried to think of a way to explain it.

"If I stop thinking keeping myself in check, I can ultimately… hurt people." She gave him a bewildered look before picking up the hunk of countertop. "If I forget about how strong I am, I might… hurt you while we—" Her eyes lit in understanding and he stopped, not even wanting to finish that sentence.

"Oh, _oh. _I see." She looked him over, the gears turning in her mind. "I guess it'd be bad for me to be on top, then." He lurched backwards, unable to stop the heat rising to his face and she coughed, her own face turning red. "Don't worry. I'm sure you can handle it." She pushed him out of the bathroom and shut the door, taking the marble with her. He heard her move around and start the shower. He went to lie on the bed, half-watching whatever she had the TV pulled up to. _Yes, but I'm not quite as sure. _

* * *

He was lying on the bed when she finally emerged from the steaming bathroom, her nightgown floating around her legs and her damp hair sticking to her neck. He stared at the ceiling, his mind clearly far away.

She thought about what he'd told her: he was afraid that he'd hurt her if they got too… passionate. And his fears weren't unfounded; he really was strong enough to pull her limbs off her body if he tried to. He'd obviously been thinking about it when he ripped a piece of faux marble out of the bathroom vanity. She felt a twinge of fear for her furnishings at her home. Apparently, she ought to order a stronger bedroom suit, one that would fit his needs better.

She moved away from the doorway, looking at him in the bed- even as a queen size, it was barely big enough for him. She felt a pang of nervousness bolt through her and cleared her throat. He looked over at her, his eyes following the path of the gown down to her legs and back up to her overheated cheeks. Suddenly she felt too exposed, even covered up as she was and walked quickly to the bed, too quickly.

She sat down, edging her way closer to him before lying down. They weren't touching, but she was close enough to feel the unnatural warmth from his arm. He was watching her; even if he wasn't turned towards her, she could feel his eyes on her. She looked over at him, wanting to touch him but unsure of how he'd react.

"I don't want to push you any farther than you have to go." Even she was surprised as the words slipped out of her mouth. He looked at her fully then; his eyes reflecting her own.

"Well." That wasn't even an answer, was it? He sounded like he just said it to be said. She collapsed against the sheets silently, reaching out to his jaw with her fingers. She happened to like the coarse hairs growing there—she wondered if he did too, or just never bothered with shaving. They stayed the same constantly, though. Maybe he couldn't get rid of it?

His eyes followed her fingers as they skated underneath his chin, pulling his face closer as she moved her hand back around to his hair. She wasn't trying to get something out of him, or even trying to spark anything. She was just…feeling. It was close to actual research as she could ever claim to get, a simple hypothesis/experiment/reaction.

She jumped slightly when his hand slid up her hip, feeling her through the gown and tugging her closer as well. She looked down at it, the plain band glinting in the dim lamplight before looking back at him.

"Are we-?"

"Hush." She blinked up at him, floored by stern tone. "If you really want to do this, you have to stop talking." She opened her mouth to argue and his hand stopped her. "I have to concentrate. And you have to tell me if I hurt."

"How can I tell you if I'm not supposed to be talking?" she asked innocently, almost smiling when an exasperated expression flitted across his face. "Don't worry- I said that I didn't want to push you and I won't. Now kiss me." She saw him give in and he rolled on top of her, one hand firmly holding the bed on each side of her head and only their legs touching.

"Let me focus," he ordered and she rolled her eyes, one foot sneaking up to rub his calf. He shut his eyes and growled at her to stop, hissing when she reached up and ran a finger down his collarbone. "I mean it- quit," he muttered.

"Make me." She was gaining more confidence by the minute, almost forgetting why she was so nervous. It was only _Anderson_, for Pete's sake. And he wanted her; he'd almost had her before, and now he just needed another small push or two. He leaned down, pressing her into the bed and managing to be intimidating. She laid back, nose-to-nose as he opened his eyes and gave her the severest glare he could manage, which only made him look more impassioned.

"Stop. It." he snarled, and she grinned up at him and leaned up to push him backwards. She'd only meant to kiss his cheek, but her tongue darted out to lick his jaw lightly and she found herself back among the blankets, his hands pushing her shoulders away as he froze above her. "You're trying to prove yourself a liar, aren't you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"You said not to talk; what else was I going to do?" she purred beneath him, toes curling on his leg as she trailed her fingers across his thigh. Feeling bold, she traced up his inner thigh to where his leg met his pelvis, watching his face scrunch up in an effort to ignore her. "Maybe I don't mind being hurt a little." His eyes shot open and he looked down at her, unable to keep the lust from his gaze. He looked away, running a hand over his face and she took the opportunity to sit up under him, tugging at his shirt. "Alexander," she sung softly as she pressed her nails against his skin. He was burning alive under her fingertips; she didn't know how he could stand being so hot. "Alex?" she tried the nickname on her tongue, hearing the longing whine in her voice and he trembled beneath her hands. Sighing, she pushed him off of her and shook her head. Standing up by the side of the bed, she began to pull off her gown.

"What're you doing?" his voice was conflicted between desire and confusion. She flipped the long nightgown over her head, letting her hair hide her back from him as she bundled it up and threw it over to the bag on the floor.

"I'm hot now. I'm going to sleep in my underwear tonight." She looked over at him slightly, still keeping her back to him. "It's fine; we're married. And we don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to." She crawled backwards into the bed, pulling the sheet over her and letting only her bare shoulder and arms hang out as she closed her eyes. A blazing hand touched her shoulder and she felt him move beside her.

"A she-demon, that's what you are," he rumbled in her ear and she almost arched against him at the husky tone. "I'm doing this _tonight_, just let me- let me go on my own time." She obediently remained still as his hand moved under the sheet, his fingers branching out as he moved towards her hip. The skin left behind its trail became a fiery inferno, burning her up from the inside out. She bit back a moan as he dipped to her stomach, her breaths becoming short gasps as he seemed to count every rib on the way to her diaphragm.

"How does it feel, to be teased?" She didn't answer, she couldn't answer- he was giving her all his heat, boiling her insides and making her shake as he moved south. She shifted her hips against him, wanting him more than she'd wanted anything before in all her life. This wasn't just silly desire anymore; it was a feeling that she knew was going to be reserved only for him from now on- a need for closeness and affection. She wanted; no- _needed_ him to feel the same way. He held her down effortlessly with one hand, the other sliding around her side to caress her in lazy circles. He began to nip her shoulder, her neck, her jaw; making her clench handfuls of fabric in her fists as warm breath was followed by a slick tongue. "Not talking so much now, are ye?"

She tried to tell him to shut up, but it just came out a soft mewl as he rolled her onto her back and knelt above her a second time and tore his own shirt off before leaning down and kissing her. He left her breathless, unable to do more than clutch at him as he continued his exploration of her body. Her entire being was thrumming, feeling more alive than she'd ever felt. She could feel him everywhere on her, his heat in her very soul. She lay back, letting him do whatever the hell he wanted to her. Just as long as he didn't stop.

* * *

Seras woke up, feeling something slimy on the side of her face and reached out to come in contact with a…tongue? She shuddered in revulsion, instantly becoming alert and realizing her entire neck was damp.

"Master, what the hell?" she muttered sleepily, really too lazy to care much about it at the moment. Even if it was nighttime, she'd been lacking in sleep and having a quiet coffin to recuperate in was a chance she wouldn't refuse. "Don't rape me, alright?" she turned over, feeling him turn her back just as easily and hum in her ear.

"You shouldn't have stayed here, Seras." His words vibrated into her bones, dark rumbles that bordered on a full out purr. "You shouldn't have stayed," he repeated, licking her once more for good measure as his hands played with the hem of her pajamas. She could feel the shadows all over the coffin, rubbing on her legs, arms, stomach; she shivered as they dipped into places that she ought to never let him go. She should be shoving him away, screaming bloody murder and running for the relative safety of Walter's private office. After all, if she let him do that now, he'd argue when she told him no later.

But it didn't feel wrong, no matter how much the tiny human part still left in her protested the fact that her _mentor _was feeling her up. The vampire part of her loved every minute; was even on her knees begging her to return the touches. She loved him too much to really tell him no; a point that irritated her beyond all belief, but there it was. And she knew in some strange, Alucard way he really did care about her under all that violent, charismatic bullshit.

"What is it?" she grumbled, awake but unalert. His eyes smoldered as he looked at her, giving her an almost sad glance before leaning down to lick her neck again. She made a disgusted sound and he chuckled, his teeth sharp against the tender skin.

"It's too much; I can't take it anymore." She tilted her head in confusion, unwittingly making her neck and open target again. She reached inside his mind and felt his—no, _Sir's _pleasure and instantly became nauseous. _Oh God, that's gross. Bad images, bad images_…. She opened the coffin lid, prepared to get out and go to her room.

"Master, you can't be doing this every time they… you know. I'm not in the mood for you to touch me tonight."

"That's a pity, because I am." He pulled her back in on top of him rolling until she was flush with the soft velvet lining the soil caked bottom. She protested weakly, trying not to blush as he curled his body over hers, his hands touching everywhere they could reach. "Seras, my _Seras_," he purred in her ear.

"Master… no tongues, alright?" she said softly, giving in and arching her neck for him. He chuckled darkly and she gave him a threatening look one hand going to the rim of the coffin. "And-and I'm serious about the rape too," she gasped as his shadows tickled her ribs.

"Hmm."

"Master?"

"Hmmmmm."

"_Master Alucard_!"

"You're too loud, Police Girl."

* * *

**Afterword:** Juju waits patiently for reviews. She's not sure how people will take this chapter, so she simply eats her popcorn and looks at the 5 + 4 day forecast, eyeing the severe weather threats with little to no emotion since she has to work that day.

And for all of you that reviewed about Teggerson's duet:

It couldn't have been worse than the Wild Geese's drunken karaoke night, where they had a fun time singing "Under Pressure". **That** was a night and a half.


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